What I Can Be
by LadyDeb1970
Summary: Third story in the All for One and One Forever series, prequel to Come My Restoration; Milady has left Montreal after Athos failed to meet her at the appointed time, journeying to San Francisco. What she finds there will set her on a new journey ... force her to face her own light and darkness ... and establish the greatest friendships of her life.
1. Prologue: Journey of a Thousand Miles

Author's Notes: And so, here is the prologue of _What I Can Be_ , the prequel to _Come My Restoration_ and the third story in the _All for One, One Forever_ series, as well as a partial crossover with the late nineties supernatural drama, _Poltergeist: The Legacy_. It chronicles Anne de Brueil's journey from predator to protector and her friendship with one Dr. Katherine Corrigan. At the end, you'll also see her first meeting with her closest friend and sister-in-law. This won't be as long as _Come My Restoration_ or _By Sun or Candlelight_. I don't anticipate more than ten chapters, including the respective prologue and epilogue …. again, Anne may throw me a curve ball. I think at this point, we all know how much she enjoys doing that! Oh, and I gotta share this with y'all … the Atlanta Braves are playing the Florida Marlins at Fort Bragg, just about twenty minutes away from me! I'm no baseball fan, but this is just plain awesome ….especially since only members of the military at the installation received tickets (and the stands are PACKED!). The players from both sides got a tour of the base and ate lunch with military families. Oh, the story, right. (shakes head) Sorry, got a bit distracted there. In any event, in the prologue, Tristan asks a question and Anne begins a story, one that doesn't begin with ' _once upon a time_.' And even when Athos isn't actually in the story, he still gets whumped (for the Athos-whump fans). Forward, march!

Disclaimer: Anne de Brueil (aka Milady de Winter) doesn't belong to me. Nor do Athos, Porthos, Aramis, d'Artagnan, Captain Treville, Mordaunt, Raoul, or Constance. They belong to the BBC. Kat Corrigan, Nick Boyle, Alex Moreau, Father Philip Callaghan, Derek Rayne and Rachel Corrigan (in other words, all things _Poltergeist: The Legacy_ ) also do not belong to me, they belong to Trilogy, Showtime, and Syfy. Audelais de la Fere and her daughter Tristan Maddox, however, are mine. Feel free to borrow them … just please ask first, give credit where credit is due, and return them to me intact.

Reviewer Responses:

A reader (for epilogue of _By Sun or Candlelight_ ): Thank you so much, I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Hope you enjoy this one as well!

Prologue

Journey of a Thousand Miles

San Antonio, Texas

April 2015

"So, what's San Francisco like?"

Anne de la Fere looked up from the table she was helping to clean, into the bright eyes of her niece. It was three weeks since Robert Maddox left San Antonio for the City by the Bay (good riddance), and his daughter finally got around to asking Anne about the city where he would be living for the next several months. It was two weeks since Anne renewed her vows with Athos … a much quieter, much more private ceremony than their first, presided over by a justice of the peace and Father Philip Callaghan. Only the Musketeers, their ladies, Tristan, Justinian and Sabine were in attendance, because they were the only important ones … aside from herself and Athos. They would have a larger wedding at the end of the year, after Constance's baby was born … but as Anne told Athos when she asked him to marry her again, she couldn't wait that long to stake her claim on him. That made him smile (and Anne would deny this to her dying breath, but every time he smiled at her, she fell in love with him all over again).

For all the pageantry of their first wedding, and as much as she felt (and looked) like a princess in her wedding dress, their second wedding would always be her favorite. She wasn't the same girl who arrived in Pinon Deux to find evidence of Athos de la Fere's guilt in the deaths of his parents, only to fall in love with him. He wasn't the same young soldier who returned home to take up his duty and birthright, and their second wedding reflected that. He'd worn his dress uniform ( _Musketeers have dress uniforms_? Josie had asked in surprise. It would seem so); while she wore a vintage wedding dress from the 1930's that she and Josie found in the thrift store attached to Gennesaret. _Understated elegance works best on you_ , Josie said as she held the simple white dress against Anne. Her sister-in-law knew what she was talking about, and Athos' eyes lit up when he saw her in the simple white dress.

The day of their second wedding was also the first time Tristan called her 'aunt,' although it wasn't 'Aunt,' but 'Tata Anne.' Evidently, someone told her that the French version of 'auntie' was 'tata.' Crazy girl. Anne said now, glancing over her shoulder at her son (who was finger-painting with his little sister and his beloved 'Uncle Rami'), "Hasn't your father told you anything about San Francisco? Or has he focused entirely on Angel Island?" Not that Anne blamed him … she loved not just Angel Island, but the stately Legacy House.

However, Tristan smiled cheekily and replied, "Oh, he tells me about San Francisco, about the ferry from San Francisco to Angel Island, about the rebuilt House, and the Foundation, and the Winston Rayne Hall of Antiquities, but he doesn't tell me about the cool stuff. Like … chocolate. Is Ghirardelli chocolate really as good as everyone says it is?" There was a snicker from Constance Lupiac, and Anne offered the younger woman a mock-glare, which impressed Constance not at all. She was four months along, the baby due in September ( _poor girl_ , Josie observed quietly, _I was pregnant during the summer. It wasn't pleasant_ ). Not surprisingly, d'Artagnan was quickly turning fretting into an art form. She thought of her own pregnancy with Justinian, and realized with a pang that Athos would have been the exact same way.

She hadn't answered her niece, and she told the girl now, "Don't know. Never had it. And your dad is giving you the only perspective he has." That was something she heard from Nick Boyle, a conversation he'd had with a friend who died in the line of duty, a conversation (or, more appropriately, a bickering session before they became friends). Kristen Adams, her name was, and Anne learned the hard way not to mention her name around Philip Callaghan, as the young woman died saving his life. While she wasn't as close to the priest as her sister-in-law was, she never wanted to see that look on his face again … that look of grief and guilt and pure anguish.

Of course, her answer wasn't enough for Tristan, who sighed with obvious exasperation, "I _know_ that, that's why I'm asking for yours, Tata." Oh, Lord … she hadn't even turned thirteen yet, and she was already becoming a teenager. Anne looked up from her cleaning to chastise the girl … only to find Tristan staring at her with an earnest expression. It was that expression that did her in. It reminded too much of the twenty-something Athos de la Fere she first met, so many years earlier. Sighing, Anne sank onto the bench, and motioned for Tristan to do the same.

"You'll need to visit San Francisco yourself, work out your own perspective. But … I can tell you about how my visit there, my time with Father Philip's friends, changed my life. Would that work?" she asked and Tristan nodded eagerly. Anne took a deep breath and released it, remembering the angry, bitter woman who first touched down in San Francisco nearly two years earlier. She once again heard Kat's disbelieving, 'you _left? What if he was in an accident? What if he_ _ **needed**_ _you_?' She saw Kat's pretty face contorted in pain and desperation as she fought against the evil that wanted another chance at life … and then she saw the nightmarish images of Athos in pain that her shadow-self inflicted upon her.

When she opened her eyes once more, she was aware that Aramis scooted a bit closer (he thought he wasn't being obvious … idiot), and that both Constance and Ana fell silent. But she kept her eyes on Tristan. She began, "The first thing you need to understand is that I asked your uncle to leave Montreal with me, after Rochefort was put away the first time. I told him that I would be waiting for him in a particular time and place. He didn't come … and so I left. It took me a long time to forgive him … and then, once I learned why he was late, it took me a long time to forgive myself. But I was helped along with the former by three people: Nick Boyle, Alex Moreau, and Kat Corrigan. Especially Kat. You remind me a lot of her. You've heard that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, right? Well, mine began with a whole lot of resentment and a cross-continental flight …"

TBC

Additional Author's Notes: Angel Island is real … it's an island in the San Francisco Bay, maybe a half mile north east of Alcatraz. At one time, it was the Ellis Island of the West Coast and of strategic importance during the Second World War. It was also the setting of the aforementioned _Poltergeist: The Legacy_ , which ran from 1996-2000, and the site of the San Francisco Legacy House (if you've ever watched the tv show _Arrow_ , it was the Queen mansion in that show). However, in real life, there's no castle (unhappily … while the show was set in San Francisco, it was filmed in Vancouver). It's still an amazing place to visit. I was there in 1999, spent an afternoon hiking around the island. Also ... yes, Anne and Athos are officially married again. My apologies for not including the wedding, but I didn't want to slow the story down if I could help it.


	2. Chapter 1: Tabula Rasa

Author's Notes: It occurred to me that I might need to set a few minds at ease. While it is helpful to have seen _Poltergeist: The Legacy_ , it isn't strictly necessary, especially since this story is set nearly fifteen years after its last episode. I don't believe anyone will be lost when we deal with the Legacy characters, but if anyone is confused or if you have questions, please don't hesitate to ask. If you're wondering about it, the chances are good that someone else is as well. I realized this weekend that DragonCon is only fifty-plus days out, so I need to get my hiney in gear and get my gifts for the actors ordered or made, as well as put final touches on one of my costumes. Oh, and I need to add the names of my roomies to my hotel reservations. D'oh (pulls at hair). Okay, in this first chapter, Anne arrives in San Francisco and reluctantly goes to the aid of someone in need; new friend Katherine Corrigan reflects on this new person in her life; while a sinister deal is struck.

Chapter One

Tabula Rasa

Entrance to Fisherman's Wharf

San Francisco, CA

May 2013

He hadn't come. The words kept repeating themselves in her head, over and over. She'd seen the way he looked at her, felt the intensity when he kissed her, and he _hadn't_ _ **come**_. During the flight, she put that rage, that grief, away to focus on other things. Such as, what she would do in San Francisco, who she would be. Anne chose her second favorite persona, that of Sabine du Berry. She exemplified the phrase, 'tough but tender,' and who Anne wanted to be right now. She was free of Richelieu, free of Athos (but she didn't _want_ to be free of Athos, they were bound to one another, just as she told him) … she was a clean slate. _Tabula rasa_ , she thought and smirked to herself. But there was no joy in the expression. She truly thought … it didn't matter. Whatever she thought, she was wrong, and she would never forgive Athos for that.

She hiked her backpack a little higher on her shoulders as she rose to her feet to exit the streetcar, grimacing when the motion tugged on her hair. Dammit, that hurt! She should have pulled her hair into a ponytail or put it in a bun while she was in the ladies room at the airport … or the Ferry Building. It didn't matter … she was almost to Fisherman's Wharf, and she would decide what to do from there. Lunch first … find a place to stay, so she could get some rest. Of course, her luck was never that good. As she began to wander through Fisherman's Wharf, she heard someone saying angrily, "I told you before to leave me alone … now back off, before I _make_ you!" At first, Anne was going to ignore it … it wasn't any of her business, and she was done trying to help other people. And then, she heard her own voice, lying about Ninon de Larroque for the unpardonable sin of finding Anne's husband attractive. She saved Adele … but she tried to ruin Ninon's life. Did one good deed balance out the (attempted) destruction of other lives?

With a frustrated groan, Anne reversed course, heading in the direction of the raised voice. It belonged to a pretty young woman, she discovered, maybe five or ten years younger than herself, facing off with a much larger, and very menacing-looking, man. She looked more angry than scared, but Anne thought the odds weren't in the girl's favor. Especially when the man snorted, "You? Make me? Little girl, Nick Boyle may have helped to raise you, but he's not here now. And even if he was, well …" The young woman's slim body went rigid at those words, and her hands curled into fists at her sides. Anne considered her strategy. Brute force wouldn't take this man down. Being sneaky? That would definitely tilt the odds in their favor.

"I think you'll find that I wasn't raised by Nick Boyle … and I _am_ here," Anne answered coolly, even as she launched a kick at the back of the man's knee. Her balance was only thrown off a little by the back-pack hanging from her shoulders … indeed, its weight gave her kick a little more force. He yelped, and the young woman surged forward with a kick to his groin, followed by one to his throat. He went down like the proverbial sack of potatoes, and the girl grabbed Anne's hand, saying breathlessly, "C'mon!"

Anne ran at her side willingly, racing onto the ferry she was to, cursing under her breath the whole way. She was already tired from the long flight (and equally long layover). Damn Athos … he had infected her with his do-gooder impulses! It wasn't her business, what happened to this girl, but … But she could remember too many times when no one came to her rescue when she was a child, far younger than this girl. And, much to her horror, she realized that she hadn't gone to this girl's rescue for Athos' sake, but for her own. Damn. That was even worse. What the hell was happening to her? The girl reminded her of Tamsyn … that had to be it. There was no other explanation for intervening in something that had nothing to do with her. Or maybe she could plead extreme exhaustion? That had to be it … she was utterly exhausted and not thinking clearly. Or not thinking at all.

At last, after zig-zagging through what seemed like hundreds of lost-looking tourists, the pair arrived in what looked like a small stateroom. Or whatever the living room was called on one of these things. The girl collapsed onto a davenport, taking Anne with her as she murmured, "Something needs to done about him before someone gets hurt." She opened her eyes and smiled at Anne wearily, saying, "Thank you. I probably could have taken him, but I'm glad I didn't have to. I'm Kat Corrigan. I hope you don't mind, but we're on the ferry to Angel Island, where I live." Two things stuck out to Anne as she caught her breath and glanced around … whatever the hell this was. One, Kat Corrigan's assertion that she probably could have taken the goon. Really? In what reality did she live? On the other hand, she had no idea what 'raised by Nick Boyle' meant. Two, she thanked Anne, rather than rejecting her help. Considering Anne still couldn't figure out why she got involved … hell. She didn't know how she felt about that. Scratch that, she didn't know how she felt about any of this.

That could be the only explanation for the next words out of her mouth, as she answered, "I'm Anne de Brueil." She froze as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She meant to say, 'Sabine du Berry,' she chose that name already … why would she give this girl what she regarded as her true name? But Kat Corrigan only smiled as she relaxed against the cushions, and Anne realized something else that didn't make sense. She looked around once more, this time asking, "Why didn't he follow us onto the ferry … and why didn't we need tickets?"

"Two questions, one answer … I'm the director of the Derek Rayne Foundation, and I own the Ferry. Well, sort of … it actually belongs to the Foundation," Kat Corrigan answered. Anne closed her mouth with a snap, looking around herself. If it belonged to this Foundation, did that mean all the people on it worked for the Foundation? The woman she rescued went on, "The ferry is only used to take people to the Island for a tour of the Castle. That man? He's the head of security for one of our sister organizations. He doesn't like our director, and he really doesn't like the fact that someone who grew up in the organization was picked to head the Foundation."

There was a lot Kat Corrigan wasn't saying, but Anne found she didn't care. For now, she was safe and Kat Corrigan might be able to help her start a new life. Well, there was one, teensy detail that confused her. As she caught her breath, she asked, "The director of what? You said you're the director of this Foundation … who is the director you're referring to? And what kind of ferry is this?" It didn't matter why she intervened, Anne realized as she got more comfortable … it didn't even matter that there was no one to intervene for her when she'd been a helpless child. What mattered was that this woman was far more than she first appeared … and Anne could do with an ally.

"Right, sorry. I'm the director of the Derek Rayne Foundation, which is a branch of the Luna Foundation. Nick Boyle is the head of the Luna Foundation … that's the director I mentioned. And Nick didn't help to raise me … he was more like another older brother, he and Philip both. Derek … he was more like my dad than Nick was. And I did say this was a special kind of ferry," Kat answered. Hmm. Interesting. So she had. Kat glanced at her more fully, asking, "So, were you hiking across country or did you fly here?" Hiking … across country? The look she gave Kat must have said everything she wanted to, because the younger woman laughed, adding, "Understood. Well, you can stay at the House, it's the least I owe you. Just let me text Nick, let him know … and then I'll text Mom."

This was said with more than a hint of exasperation, but Anne ignored it. She was exhausted … the adrenaline rush was bottoming out, the jet lag was starting to really hit, this part of the ferry was toasty warm, and the hurt over Athos' final betrayal was threatening to choke her. She fought against her exhaustion even now, because she wasn't safe. She didn't know this woman, didn't trust her. But she kept falling, kept listing sideways into the other woman … and nearly missed Kat saying softly, "But first, I'll take care of you." Even as Anne was trying to protest … she didn't need anyone to take care of her, dammit … the younger woman was maneuvering her downward, until Anne's head rested on a cushion. As sleep began to tug her under, she also heard Kat hissing, "I don't know who you are, or what you want, but _you leave her alone_!" And that was when she saw the shadow that wore her face. The shock followed her into unconsciousness and would unsettle her dreams.

14AA41

Luna Foundation Ferry from San Francisco to Angel Island

The woman even now sleeping beside Dr. Katherine Corrigan (PhD, not MD, thank you very much … in this respect, she was far more Derek Rayne's daughter than Rachel Corrigan's) … she was familiar in a way, although Kat knew for a fact that they'd never met before. Whether it was the way she so desperately fought off sleep, though she was clearly exhausted … or her reluctance to come to Kat's aid back at the Wharf, not wanting to get involved … there was something about her that Kat knew, something that she recognized. And it was driving her crazy. Still, she had to let Nick know that she was on her way back with the tourists. It wasn't the plan to get stuck with that idiot Ryder, but she'd done a last minute sweep, to make sure no one was being left behind. It was a carryover from her days as a chaperone at her college's daycare center and a habit she couldn't seem to break.

Kat once more glanced down at the woman who called herself 'Anne,' noting the way her brow furrowed, and looked next at the shade smirking at her. She had no idea who that woman was … Kat had never heard of a person's darkness separating from the main body, although just to be thorough, she'd call Philip later. Even so, she was sure that the shade was something else … was someone else, though she closely resembled Anne.

That would have to wait. The shade began to dissipate, and Kat turned her attention to her cell phone, texting, ' _On my way back, bringing tourists plus one. Ran into Ryder. Remind me why I can't drop-kick him_?' She hit 'send,' and then sent a far less detailed text to her mother. She would see her mother soon enough and be scolded for her work with the Legacy, never mind that the Legacy had been in her blood since she was eight years old. She didn't believe in destiny, but she did believe in the work they did. The Legacy was comprised of human beings, as flawed as they were … but that didn't make their mission any less real.

In truth, Mom had never recovered from Derek's death, nearly fifteen years earlier. It took Kat a long time to heal as well, losing her surrogate father only four years after her actual father. But Mom … it hit Mom far harder. Maybe because she was a little in love with Derek and never admitted it to herself; Kat didn't know. She just knew that as the years passed, her mother's bitterness toward the Legacy grew, to the point that she didn't speak to Kat for a full year after Kat announced her decision to accept Nick's formal invitation. The estrangement had hurt deeply … for a year after Dad and Connor died, she and her mother had only each other. Maybe that was part of the problem.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she grinned to herself, reading Nick's response, ' _Here and waiting for you, KitKat … leave drop-kicking to me, am less likely to injure my foot. Be safe, kiddo_.' She sent back a text telling him that she was always careful (far more careful than Nick was, especially when she first met him), before sending a text to Philip. She hadn't seen the Legacy priest in nearly five years. He returned to San Francisco briefly for the dedication of the Derek Rayne Foundation, and seeing him then nearly broke Kat's heart. He looked tired … so tired. But his smile for her was as warm as it always was. He wasn't the handsome young priest she'd first met, and she wasn't the little girl he remembered, but they still found a way to be friends. More than that, he ignored her mother's obvious disdain for him. But Philip loved Derek, as they all did, and while the contempt Kat's mother felt for him was obvious, just as obvious was Alex's affection for him.

Kat shook herself … it was a long time since she thought about the dedication of the Foundation. She glanced at the sleeping woman beside her. Anne de Brueil … if that was actually her name. What was her story? Only time would tell. For now, Kat returned her attention to the speech she would give once they arrived on the Island and back at the castle. Nick already told her that he sent a bus for the tourists. She caught the eye of Rieda, her tour guide, who came into the former movie/tv lounge (which Kat now used as a personal lounge). The other woman nodded reassuringly ... the tourists were all fine. Kat relaxed and returned her attention to the notes on her phone, distracted briefly when an answering text from her mother came through. She sighed, reading the message, and shook her head. She wasn't even thirty years old, but from the time she was seven years old, she found herself being the adult for her mother. For some reason, it bothered her far more as a grown woman than it did when she was a child. Maybe that was why she missed Derek so much … one reason at least.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the shade wearing Anne's face emerge once more and Kat raised her head to challenge the shadow. _She isn't yours_ , Kat thought, remembering Derek challenging her great-grandfather when she was a child. _She is free, and you can't have her_! The shadow merely smirked at her, and Kat 'heard' it say … in French, ' _we'll see about that, child … she is mine. Derek Rayne stood against Joshua Cantwell. You cannot stand against me_.' Like she said … they would just see about that!

14AA41

Unknown Location

Approximately same time

"Do you know, your girl is quite annoying? Actually, both of them are … although, the head shrinker's daughter is being much, much more annoying at the moment. And don't look at me that way, I've learned a few bits of modern slang whilst I've been keeping you company. By the way, you're about to lose that game."

"Am I? Am I about to lose this game, or am I tricking you into thinking that I'm about to commit a serious blunder? And as to my girl … she is no such thing. As I told you when you tried to claim her, she is free to make her own choices, just as her mother was, just as her mother did," was the response. It was a curious encounter … the warrior for light playing chess while the force for evil watched in silence. Well … most of the time.

"You're a curious being … such faith in someone who has done nothing to merit it," the force for evil taunted, and her opponent raised an eyebrow, a small smile appearing on his face. He was well into his sixties, but even by her standards, he was still a handsome man. Of course, she was also his ancestress, but that never stopped her before. She had entirely too much fun with his father until that particular descendent was released from Hell by his child's sacrifice … something she reminded her light-side companion every chance she got.

That same companion said now, "She has done much to merit it. I know she stands balanced on a knife's edge. She, and she alone, must determined to which side she'll fall. And yes, I do have faith in her, that she'll make the right choice. In fact, I have so much faith in her that I will make you a wager … no matter how much you push her to join you, she'll choose light and love over hatred and resentment." He was uncomfortably aware that he was in danger of playing God here. And if a certain priest of his acquaintance could hear him now … but no, he was safe, and safely unaware of the truth. Enough damage was done to that man's life. He would not add to it.

"A wager, is it? You truly believe that one with so much resentment and so much anger toward those who have failed her will topple toward the light, even if you don't intervene and I do? Oh, challenge accepted! There's faith, Derek Rayne, and then there is pure foolishness. If you believe I cannot tempt her to the dark side, much as the self-styled Lady Darkness once tempted your Alex Moreau, then you truly are foolish. However … if you're willing to play chess with your daughter's very soul, then who am I to argue? Done."

"You've not heard my stipulations yet," the not-as-dead-as-everyone-thought Derek Rayne answered coolly, trying to ignore the burgeoning pain in his shoulder. In the nearly fifteen years since he blew up his House, the same House where he and his sister grew up, he healed from the injuries he sustained in that explosion, but remained hidden away from those he loved … for the most part. His ancestress arched a brow mockingly, and the former precept went on, "Only one stipulation, really … if you fail, you leave her alone. You leave her husband alone, and you leave their son alone. No harm is to come to any of them. Agreed?"

There was a small pout, and then the shade answered, "Oh, very well … not that it makes much of a difference, because she _will_ choose me. She will choose me, and then we will make that ex-husband of hers suffer." Derek didn't bother pointing out that his daughter was still legally married (since she never signed the divorce papers). Instead, he eyed his ancestress meaningfully, because she still hadn't agreed to his terms. And while he was gambling with the soul of his daughter (to say nothing of the lives of his son-in-law and grandson), he wasn't about to leave this shade any wiggle room. She glared at him, snarling, "Agreed."

"Zeer goot. Oh, and Milady? Checkmate," Derek observed, nodding to the chess set. Her face twisted with rage, and she vanished. Derek sank back against his chair. As ever, these encounters with his mother's distant ancestress left him shaking and shaken. But it was worst this time. He all but dared her to turn his only child to the dark, following in the footsteps of her grandfather. True, Winston Rayne only strayed a bit, but it was just enough to land him in hell for a few decades. He breathed, "Forgive me, Anne." He had no idea if he could forgive himself, though. Only time would tell.

TBC

Additional Author's Notes: I hadn't planned on making any of these revelations until much, much later in the story, but I was overruled by both Anne and Derek. Yes, despite the beliefs of most of his people, Derek Rayne is alive, though he was badly injured in the explosion he detonated to protect the world. And yes, he is Anne's father (who her mother is, and why Anne was abandoned, is yet to come). Also yes … he is descended from Mordaunt through his mother Barbara, making him a descendent of Milady 1.0. Finally, ' _zeer goot_ ' is Dutch for ' _very good_ ,' Derek's other main language.


	3. Chapter 2: Shadows from Another Time

Author's Notes: So, I don't know who else has heard about this (I'm about a week behind the times), but Santiago Cabrera has joined the cast of _Transformers: The Last Knight_ (and from the slide show I saw, Josh Duhamel is behaving like an annoying big brother). I just keep getting more and more reasons to go see this movie, I swear. I've been a _Transformers_ fan since the original cartoon debuted when I was fourteen years old, and absolutely adored the first live-action movie (enjoyed the second, third and fourth, but the first will always hold a special place in my heart … and oh, the music! Steve Jablonsky quickly became one of my favorite movie composers). Getting back to the story … as you'll notice, Anne threw one of her legendary curve balls … so, on occasion (not in every chapter), action will shift back to 2015 for the reactions of Anne's friends and family. Plus, Joselais and Treville insisted on getting some action in (not _tha_ t kind of action … okay, sort of that kind of action). If I didn't go along with them, I probably wouldn't make any progress on this or on _Call It By That Name_. That will likely be the final story in the series, aside from one-shots, unless inspiration strikes. In any event, in this chapter, Kat asks some uncomfortable questions; Anne answers questions in 2015; and Nick Boyle isn't really sure what to make of his 'little sister's' new friend … much less if she can be trusted. Anne would like to know the answer to that herself.

Chapter Two

Shadow from Another Time

Angel Island

San Francisco Bay, California

A man was waiting at the dock … average height, graying hair, just from what she could see from here. Kat murmured, "That's Nick, my boss and surrogate big brother. His bark tends to be worse than his bite, especially when it comes to those he loves." The two women stood at the railing as the ferry drew ever closer to the dock. Kat glanced at her, adding with a sunny smile, "Then again, I have no doubt that you can handle yourself." Anne just grunted, still more than a little annoyed with herself for falling asleep. True, the lounge consisted of just herself and Kat, and true, she was exhausted from her flights, but she still let her guard down in an unknown area and with an unknown person. To make matters worse, she _did_ feel better.

Kat didn't look a bit concerned by Anne's lack of manners, smiling as she returned her attention to the man on the dock. That made Anne even more cranky and annoyed, but before she had a chance to make an ass out of herself, Kat observed, "You'll be staying at the House, of course. What? You didn't have a place to stay, did you?" Anne shook her head mutely, and Kat went on, "You helped me, and now I'm helping you. Mind you, you might end up assisting us on occasion." Anne arched her brows … oh really? Kat's bright smile softened, and she added, "You have the look of someone searching for a purpose."

Was she? Maybe she was … looking for a purpose and a reason why. Why was Athos not there? Ugh, she needed to stop thinking about this. The ferry was docking, and a statuesque, dark-skinned woman was joining the man. Kat went on, "We'll let the tourists get off first … Alex will take control of the group, and then we'll meet with Nick." Ah. The woman's name would be Alex, then. Short for Alexandra? Alexia? Alexandria? Alexis? Could be any one of those, or none of them, and she must still be tired to be thinking about such idiocy.

Kat was still waiting for an answer, and so Anne just shrugged. Kat nodded, as if Anne just confirmed something she suspected, and continued, "Just to give you a heads' up, you'll be meeting my mother tonight. She can be … difficult." Oh … really? And would Katherine care to give her an example of this? Kat explained, "Nick once explained it to another one of our friends this way … she's a good person to have at your side in a fight, and she means well." Oh. Yes. That told Anne all she needed to know about Katherine's mother. Spare her from those well-meaning types … it was her experience that they were far more trouble than they were worth. Although, Athos' friend Aramis wasn't too bad. Then again, it wasn't so much that he was well-meaning, but he actually tried to truly help people, rather than help people to look good or make himself feel better.

And why was she thinking about Athos again? Anne ordered her mind to stay in California, to stop drifting to Montreal and to her … and to Athos. He made his choice … and hadn't he warned her to stay away from Montreal? But that was before they kissed, before she realized that he'd never stopped wanting her, never stopped loving her. But if he never stopped loving her, why hadn't he met her? Kat said softly, as if hearing what she was thinking, "I don't know what is worrying at you … but it's been my experience that sometimes, people have a good reason for letting us down."

"And what would you know about it?" Anne said snidely. Kat merely stared at her, blue eyes never leaving Anne's face … making the former headhunter very, _very_ uncomfortable. At first, Anne didn't think the other woman would answer her (God knew it was none of her damn business). And really, she probably didn't want to know the answer to that. After several moments, Kat looked away … but it wasn't a surrender.

"When I was seven years old, my father was late in picking me up from school. He had picked up my older brother Connor first, since Connor's school was closer to his office. It was raining, and I stood in the doorway, out of the rain. I waited and I waited, and I waited, and I was afraid. The principal was with me, but I wanted my daddy. I was always more my father's daughter than my mother's. I waited there for … hours," Kat responded. Anne swallowed hard, having a sick feeling that she knew where this was going. The younger woman said hoarsely, tears sparkling in her eyes, "They were in an accident, my dad and Connor … they were in an accident and they both died. So yes. I do know a few things about people seeming to let me down."

Anne didn't apologize. Not because she didn't regret what she said (she did … more than words could say), but because, ' _I'm sorry_ ' didn't come anywhere near close to being good enough. She supposed she could have said that there was far more history between herself and Athos than there was for Kat and her father. She could have even pointed out that Anne never knew her father. Maybe she was lucky in that respect. Instead, she looked down and said, "There was no accident. He didn't come because I wasn't good enough for him. No matter what I did, I was never good enough for him." Once more, she found herself on the receiving end of a piercing gaze, but this time, Anne didn't look away. And once more, Katherine Corrigan surprised her.

Rather than backing down or defending Athos, the young woman asked, "Is that what he said? Or is that what you think?" Kat stared at her for another long moment, before turning her back deliberately and striding to the opposite end of the ferry. Anne swallowed hard. She wanted to hate Kat Corrigan, wanted to resent her. But Kat's question was just that. A question, not a challenge … unless Anne wanted to make it a challenge. The question was … did she? And that was an answer she just didn't have. Not right now.

14AA41

San Antonio, Texas

Basement of Gennesaret Building

April 2015

"Wow … so, you never even thought that maybe Uncle Athos had an accident or something might have happened to him?" Tristan blurted out. Anne shook her head. She didn't learn about the explosion at the Garrison until Treville told her about it … when he also told her that Athos came to meet her, arriving perhaps fifteen to twenty minutes after she left. But … she simply thought that Athos didn't want her any more, was using her to take Rochefort down. Her niece continued, "So you were angry and bitter and hurting, and you must have resented Kat like crazy." Well … yeah, she did, but how did Tristan arrive at that conclusion? The girl explained obligingly, "She had everything that you didn't."

Well … Anne couldn't argue with that. Nor could anyone else, as the newly-arrived Josie observed, "True, although somewhat simplistic. So, you're finally divulging the top secret events in San Francisco that led you here? I've been wanting to hear this story for ages." Anne stuck her tongue out at her sister-in-law and crossed her eyes. Josie merely snickered, "Sorry, dear, it's not **your** tongue that interests me. Oh. My. Did I just say that out loud?" Anne stared at her friend in shock … wait, what? Josie merely smirked as Jean Treville wrapped an arm around her waist. She didn't quite lean into his embrace, but she certainly wasn't pulling away. In fact, she actually shifted her weight a little in his direction, as if her instincts were drawing her sideways, but her caution was stopping her. She did, however, blush and duck her head as she noticed his utterly besotted expression when he looked at her. Anne virtuously kept from rolling her eyes at them both.

"Yes, you did, and that falls into the category of things none of us need to know. Tristan, honey, would you like me to cover your eyes when they start playing suckface?" Anne inquired of the not-quite-teenager, who was staring at her mother with a combination of amusement and 'ew.' Treville seemed to take that as an invitation (not that he really seemed to need one any more), as he drew Josie closer, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her quite thoroughly. Tristan actually meeped, and Anne gave into the overwhelming desire to face-palm. The face-palm gave way to mock-gagging when Treville released Josie … his expression was an odd mixture of smug and goofy, and as for Josie … well, she was wearing a particularly dopey grin. Ew. If she wasn't so glad to see her friend happy, that dopey smile would really make her feel sick.

She wasn't the only one. Justinian, who went back to coloring when his mother's story started to go over his head, said, "Ew, Aunt Josie!" Josie stuck her tongue out at her nephew ( _real mature, Josie),_ still sporting that dopey grin. Honestly, Anne wished one of them would just jump the other and be done with it … at this point, she didn't care which one of them it was. But, she knew her sister-in-law better than that. No matter how much she enjoyed being around Treville (and enjoyed his kisses!), Josie was still wary of giving away her heart. Much the same, Anne was horrified to realize, that she herself was. She wasn't horrified that Josie was being cautious … she was horrified that there were any similarities between herself and Josie. That was always something she liked about her sister-in-law, that she was so different from Anne.

"Don't knock it 'til you try it, son … it's fun with the right person," Treville admonished his 'grandson' with a grin. Justinian just made another 'ew' face, glowering up at Treville when the Musketeer captain ruffled his hair. Treville released Josie and swung Justinian up into his arms, adding, "However, right now, much as I like kissing your aunt, I think there's something else that requires our attention. Aramis, are you running low on supplies?" Aramis started to respond in the negative, but then he looked at his captain … looked at his nephew … and his mouth snapped shut so quickly, Anne wondered if he hurt himself.

"We are indeed … Tinian, why don't you get more supplies, while I get things arranged here and look after your sister?" Aramis suggested. Justinian glared at his favorite uncle, and Anne wasn't sure if it was because he shortened the little boy's name, or because the seven year old was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for being. Probably both … but Aramis didn't back down, and finally, Justinian nodded reluctantly. Treville kissed Josie's temple, and then carried the little boy toward the storage room, where Justinian wouldn't hear the rest of the story until he was much older. Once they were gone, Aramis turned to her with a questioning look, swinging Sabine high over his head before pulling her against his chest, much to the little girl's delight. In spite of herself, Anne had to admit that he would make an excellent father.

Anne wondered how his relationship with Ana was progressing (nearly everyone now called her 'Ana,' to differentiate her from Anne) … happy Musketeers kept out of other people's business. Although, Porthos (who was currently between girlfriends) never involved himself in Anne's relationship with Athos. He only ever warned her that there would be consequences for screwing over his brother. She wondered aloud if someone issued Athos a similar warning, and to her surprise, Porthos told her that such a warning was issued … by his old friend/past lover Flea. Why Flea would get involved (and when she had even been in San Antonio) to issue such a warning, Anne had no idea. Another one was issued by Adele before she left Montreal weeks earlier, and in typical Athos fashion, he accepted both humbly. Ugh. She _hated_ when he did things like that. At least Josie hadn't gotten involved. That could have been … awkward.

"So what happened next? I mean, obviously, you docked and met Kat's two friends, but what exactly came next?" Josie inquired, wrapping her arms around Tristan and resting her chin atop her daughter's head. Tristan's hand came up to cover her mother's wrist, and Anne swallowed hard as she gazed at her sister-in-law and her niece. She had never known her parents (at this point, she didn't think she wanted to meet them, either), but there were times … She shook herself. It didn't matter. It was what it was, and she had a story to tell.

"Like you said, we docked … we were the last people off the ferry, and while the tourists were taken to Alex Moreau … that's her last name, Moreau. She's originally from Louisiana. Anyhow, while she took care of them, Kat led me to Nick Boyle. And right away, I could tell that he wasn't particularly impressed with me. That was fine, though, because I wasn't particularly impressed with him, either," Anne responded. The corners of her sister-in-law's mouth quirked upward, as Anne began the story once more with, "The first words out of his mouth, believe it or not, were …"

14AA41

Ferry Dock, Angel Island

May 2013

"Hey, KitKat … something you'd like to tell me?"

He was nearly fifty years old, but teasing Kat was something he would never outgrow. She was his little sister, in all the ways that mattered, and it was the duty, privilege, and God-given right of all older siblings to annoy the younger ones (when they weren't watching out for them). Nick did it with Kat, and Philip and Alex did it with Nick. There was something to be said for continuity. And as she had when she was a little girl, Kat rolled her eyes at him as she led her companion from the ferry to meet him.

"Quit being a creep, Nick. Anne, this is Nick Boyle … director of the Luna Foundation, my boss, surrogate big brother, and all around pain in the ass. Nick, this is Anne de Brueil … she came to my rescue on the mainland, when Ryder was being a douche-canoe. She's from Montreal, and she'll be staying with us," Kat answered. The first thing that sprang to Nick's mind had to do with chastising Kat for her language. The second thing that occurred to him was how pretty the newcomer was, and the third thing was …. Montreal. Which had fallen, as Paris had and as Boston had. Were the two things related? Unlikely, but after being precept of San Francisco House for nearly fifteen years, Nick wasn't inclined to believe in coincidences.

However, for now, he offered the brunette at Kat's side a warm smile, saying, "And she's more than welcome. Anyone who helps Kat is considered a friend. And as for you." This was said as he leveled a gimlet-glare at Kat, "You stay away from Ryder. He's been warned in the past to leave you alone, but I think it's time he received a reminder that I'm not Derek." Ryder was a bully, but worse than that, Nick handled him improperly when he first took over as precept.

It was one thing for Nick to have to deal with those consequences … it was something else entirely when Kat was the one who suffered for his mishandling. He turned his attention to Anne de Brueil. As he'd noticed, she was quite pretty, although she looked somewhat uncomfortable as she looked from Kat to him and back again. Uncomfortable and … Nick mentally shook himself, saying, "We should get going. Your mom is at the House, and I need you to take a look at something. Last week, we received a shipment from the Vienna office. You were just a kid when our office in Paris was destroyed, but right before it happened, their head of security started sending out what she regarded as the most dangerous items to other offices. One such item is a sword Vienna believes belonged to Raoul, Vicomte de Bragelonne."

He had the pleasure of seeing Kat's eyes widen as she breathed, "Raoul? The son of Athos from The Three Musketeers?" Nick's grin broadened, even as Anne de Brueil shifted uncomfortably. Kat was overjoyed when, as a fifteen year old, she learned that The Three Musketeers actually existed … and they still existed, though now they worked for Bourbon Enterprises. Kat went on, "Oh, I'm definitely looking at that! What does Alex say?" The three were starting to walk back toward the Land Rover … even though it wasn't the same vehicle Derek drove, all those years ago, Nick found he enjoyed driving the Rover. Besides. It was a link to Derek. Yes, he knew that his old friend was still alive, though a shadow of his former self … but for nearly fifteen years, he was the precept of this House, and it changed him, as it changed Derek. He kept the Land Rover as a reminder of the young man he once was.

"Alex isn't convinced, especially since there are a few things that don't add up. I figure if the two of you put your heads together, you can figure out if it belonged to him, and if not, who was its owner. I have some paperwork I need to attend to … Bourbon Enterprises is wanting to expand to San Francisco. Yes, I know what you're about to say … that has nothing to do with the Luna Foundation. And you're right. However, Anne Roy … the wife of the current CEO … contacted me earlier in the week. If Bourbon does open up an office here, she wants to partner with the Luna Foundation," Nick replied.

Kat allowed herself a low whistle, before observing, "That would be a big feather in our cap, Nick. What does her proposal look like … or is that the paperwork you're still going over?" He smirked at her in the rearview mirror, and Kat rolled her eyes, muttering something very impolite under her breath. After a moment, she continued, "Well, that's interesting timing … at the same time we receive an item that belonged to a son of one of the most famous Musketeers, or is believed to belong to a son of that Musketeer, the wife of the Bourbon CEO contacts us about partnering with the Luna Foundation."

"You see it too," Nick observed and Kat nodded, looking more than a little troubled. Maybe it meant everything and maybe it meant nothing. And he hadn't talked to Derek yet, so he hadn't had a chance to run it past him … but his instincts, honed first by the SEALs and now by years of serving in the Legacy, were warning him that there was far more to this situation than what met the idea. The same was true of Anne de Brueil. Oh, he didn't think that she created the situation on the docks with Ryder. He didn't even think that she manipulated Kat into inviting her to the Island. However, there was something about her that …

What? He didn't entirely trust? That was too easy, too convenient, too pat. There was something about her that made him somewhat uncomfortable. Something in her manner that warned Nick that she was someone to be wary of. Not an enemy, but also not necessarily a friend or even an ally. He shook his head, more than a little annoyed with himself. Being wary was just that. Being cautious, and he learned a few things in the last decade and a half.

Not for the first time, Nick wished Philip was here … not just as a priest, but as Nick's friend and brother, someone to act as a sounding board. But Philip was still settling into his new posting in San Antonio, and creating his halfway house on steroids (Nick's phrase, not Philip's). The priest was only a phone call away, and if Nick's instincts got any louder, he would call him. For now, he would focus on getting himself, Kat, and the newcomer safely back to the House. And as Derek once told him… be ready for anything. Nick had learned the hard way, many years earlier, that the most innocuous of items could prove to be the most devastating. And after everything they'd been through together, he wasn't willing to lose Kat, or Alex and Rachel, to a shadow from another time. And knowing the Legacy, that was entirely too likely.

TBC

Additional Author's Notes: Show of hands who thinks that artefact belongs to Raoul? Yeah, if you didn't think that was the case, you're right. And yes, if you're thinking that Nick is making one hell of a leap in logic (Anne being from Montreal, and the Montreal Legacy House falling), you're right, but he did things like that. I would imagine he has grown and matured after being in charge for over a decade, but he learned from Derek Rayne, who also behaved impulsively on occasion. And what does falling mean within the Legacy universe? There are two possibilities … one, that all or a significant majority of the members have died (which was the case with Boston House); or two, that it was infiltrated by agents of supernatural evil (such as Montreal House).


	4. Chapter 3: Not So Easily Destroyed

Author's Notes: (pained whimper) You'd think that the summer months at a college would be easier, right? NO! Oy vey, the last two weeks have been … ugh. (shakes head) Naturally, because of the stress at work has done a number on my creativity. Fortunately, a comedy of errors yesterday morning while I was getting ready for work provided me with something to work with. So … this chapter. Well, I promised some Athos-whump (in a roundabout way), and never let it be said that I don't keep my word. This will not be the last of the Athos-whump-nightmares, because our evil force of the week underestimates Anne (and misjudges her fierce love for her child). Also … yes. As you see from this first block, I figured out a way to work Sylvie into things. She won't be in this story or the one that follows. This is more an acknowledgment that she exists, and yes, here she is Alex's niece. In this timeline, she's in her mid-teens, the daughter of Tanya Moreau and Daniel Euware (PTL episode, _The Spirit Thief_ ). If I recall correctly from the episode, Daniel was technically Tanya's mentor, but to me, there was a definite vibe between them (and Derek being Alex's mentor didn't prevent feelings from springing up there). Sylvie grew up in London and likely shares her aunt's psychic abilities. And no, I don't see Anne as having a lot of use/respect for Rachel. So … in this chapter, we see the events of the past day through Alex's eyes; Anne has a nightmare that leaves her badly shaken; and the two ladies have a late night conversation.

Chapter Three

Not So Easily Destroyed

San Francisco Legacy House

Angel Island

2013 (Anne's first night at the House)

This was _not_ how this night was supposed to be going. Then again, there were times when the theme of her life seemed to be, ' _if not for bad luck, she'd have no luck at all_.' On the other hand, there were also days when her life seemed to be made of luck. This past day hadn't been one of them. She'd been awakened at four thirty in the morning with a leg cramp that had her close to tears and using some very unladylike language (Gramma Rose would have washed her mouth out with lye soap if she'd heard even half of those words). The cramp eased enough to let her doze off, but she was still limping for the better part of the morning.

Next, her bra strap broke while she was dressing. While she was fairly certain that she could fix it, she was running late as it was. She and Nick were interviewing for the newly vacant security chief slot … Nick, because it used to be his job, tended to be somewhat of a control freak when it came to the interviews. Add to that, he really didn't enjoy conducting interviews, and it all added up to an extremely uncomfortable situation for everyone involved. Fortunately (for them, at least), their sole interviewee for today had to reschedule due to a dead battery. Instead, they had a tour group from the mainland, led by Kat.

Alexandra Moreau frowned thoughtfully as she gave up on getting any sleep right now, choosing instead to try to get some reading done. It wasn't light reading, either … that would keep her up until the crack of dawn. No, this was another read-through of Elspeth Hanlon's CV … Ms. Hanlon being the nearly frantic young woman who phoned at nine am this morning, asking to reschedule their eleven am interview because her car wouldn't start. Alex had to give her credit … she was determined to make this interview with time to spare, if she was leaving her home in the city at eight thirty am.

She had the purest of intentions, but even as she tried to focus on Ms. Hanlon's past accomplishments, Alex's mind kept drifting to Kat and the mysterious young woman who accompanied her to the island. She was a pretty girl, about fifteen years younger than Alex herself, and there was something hauntingly familiar about her. Alex couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew this girl … this Anne … from somewhere. She'd been quiet during dinner, although that was likely due to Rachel's monologue about one of her patients. Anne just stared at her in shock as she talked about this particular patient, and while Alex just met her, there was no mistaking an ' _are you even serious_?' expression when she saw one.

She answered Nick's questions succinctly … no, she'd never seen Kat before and no, she'd never encountered Ryder before (lucky girl … once was more than enough with that jackass, and Alex met him on several occasions). She just left a position as a corporate headhunter and the man she was in love with walked out on her. Alex noticed the way Kat shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but her 'little sister' didn't say anything. Hmm. Interesting.

After dinner, Nick gave Anne a tour of the 'new' House. Funny. Fifteen years later, she was still calling the rebuilt Legacy House the 'new' House. Largely because it was … not just because it was finished two years after the original was destroyed, but also because it didn't look like the House where they'd lived for so many years before Derek … before it was destroyed. Instead, after conferring with Alex, Rachel and Kat, Nick proposed coming up with a new design for the House. And Kat, darling Kat, remembered a sketch her father did a few weeks before his death. Against all odds, she found that sketch again and presented it to Nick.

It was perfect. Just similar enough to the previous Legacy House so that it would be familiar, and just different enough that Alex didn't break down sobbing when they moved in. According to Kat (who was very much her daddy's girl), her father got the idea after visiting English manor homes that were transplanted, stone by stone, to the United States. It took a little over three years to build, but it was built … and it was home, for all that Derek wasn't here. At least, that was what she told herself. But over the last few weeks, she could have sworn that she caught a whiff of his aftershave. It was ludicrous, of course … Derek had been dead for years, and while he could be a ruthless bastard, he would have never let them mourn him if he was really alive.

Alex blinked back tears, and put Elspeth Hanlon's CV away with an angry huff. Instead, she picked up her tablet, wanting to check her email. Her niece was starting boarding school in Switzerland, and she was desperately homesick. God knew Alex loved her sister, and she knew that her sister loved her daughter … unfortunately, her niece didn't know that. She only knew that her mother couldn't bear to look at her. And she couldn't, although that was hardly Sylvie's fault. Every time Tanya looked at Sylvie, she saw her daughter's father, Daniel Euware, the man who used her and nearly destroyed her. It wasn't an issue when Sylvie was a little girl, but as she grew into her teens, Tanya began seeing more and more of Daniel in her.

To make matters worse, Alex's attempts to help her niece met with resistance from Tanya. Rather than tear Sylvie apart in an ongoing tug-of-war, Alex let go … but every night, she emailed her niece. Thus far, Sylvie hadn't responded to any of her emails, but Alex never gave up hope.

Never.

14AA41

Unknown Location

Approximately the same time

She crept down the stairs, glancing over her shoulder every time she heard something. The rational part of her knew that it was nothing more than the house settling, but this was an unfamiliar place and her nerves were already on edge. Down, down, down she went … and if she felt a bit like a heroine in those horrid Gothic romances she read as a teenager to distract herself, that wasn't something she was inclined to share with anyone. As she reached the bottom of the stairs and came face to face with a door, she hesitated. This was a strange house, and there was a part of her which feared opening the door … especially given the red glow she saw emanating from under said door. She scolded herself … it wasn't as if she would open the door and find human sacrifice being practiced on the other side!

With that, she determinedly reached for the door handle and found to her astonishment (and unease), that the door opened as soon as she touched it. Swallowing hard (dammit, she was Milady de Winter … she'd faced down far worse!), she pushed the door open … only to stop short. It wasn't a human sacrifice that lay in front of her. In some ways, what she beheld was far worse. As a young girl, she often heard people referencing Dante's Inferno whenever they spoke of fires … but until this moment, she hadn't ever understood the actual horror, as it seemed she was stepping into Hell itself.

There was fire all around her, the red glow she'd seen under the door. But the worse was yet to come. As she moved further into the room (why wasn't the fire touching her?), she heard soft groaning … the sounds of someone in terrible pain. Someone who was hurting so badly, they were only capable of making those small, muffled noises. She turned toward the source of the sound, a startled gasp breaking free when she saw the source of the groans. A slim figure hung in chains, head bowed … but Anne didn't need to see his face. She recognized the dark hair falling in sweaty ringlets, the lean body. She knew exactly who hung here, and she could have cried. Even before her husband raised his head to look at her, the strips of his clothes falling away to reveal the hideous marks on his body, she could have cried. But at seeing what was done to him, to her Athos, Anne did cry out.

Terrible gouges were torn into his flesh, and were even now weeping blood. For the first time, too, she noticed the fire lighting up at his feet … fire that was even now licking at what remained of his boots. Fire that would consume her husband, and Anne knew she couldn't let that happen. However angry she was with Athos, she couldn't let him die, unless she was ready to die with him. And she wasn't. Not yet.

 _We are bound together_ , she told him, and she meant it. Athos would not die here, not like this. But as she moved forward, toward Athos, flames leapt up in front of her, and a strangely familiar voice asked (in French), ' _are you sure that's what you want to do? Are you sure you want to save him? After everything he did to you, after all the times he failed you, after all the times he chose others over you? Why not just let him die … why not just let him burn? It's what he deserves_.' The flames at Athos' feet were licking at his ankles now, and his head fell back between his shoulders, as if someone just struck him in the face, and blood began to run down into his beard from his split lip.

But … _was_ it what he deserved? Did anyone, except the most heinous of criminals, deserve this? Anne realized as she stared at the battered body of the only man she could ever truly love, she didn't care what he deserved. She wasn't sure if she would ever forgive him for choosing his brothers over her, time and again, but … but she remembered what things were like when she thought he was dead. It was as if a light in the world went out. Remembering that, remembering how lost she felt when she thought she'd achieved her heart's desire, Anne once more moved to free her husband (he was her husband, would _always_ be her husband … she couldn't let him go).

Only to find her way blocked once more … this time, by a figure in a dark cloak. And once more, the question was asked, ' _why not let him burn? He failed you again, he will **always** fail you_.' Anne felt her throat tighten with frustration and with unshed tears, but this time, she chose to respond, "We failed each other. I told him that we were bound together, and I meant it." And because Kat Corrigan raised a good point when she spoke of her father and brother's deaths, she added, "And maybe he tried to come, but was prevented. I just know that I won't let him die, much less like this." No, when he died, it would be at her hand, and not like this.

With those words, she pushed the cloaked figure out of her way, trying not to think about how familiar it/she/whatever seemed. Instead, she focused on saving Athos, because of _course_ her dear husband just had to make things as difficult as possible. He mumbled some noble nonsense about her getting away, that she shouldn't risk her life for him. What rot! He should know by now that she would always do what she wanted, rather than what he told her to do! And she meant what she said, about leaving the person she'd become behind her.

Once more, she reached for her husband, only to be pulled backward … by the same cloaked figure from before. Anne, who never forgot her childhood on the streets, immediately threw her elbow back into the face of her assailant, stomping on his/her/its foot at the same time, and followed that up with a back kick to the knee. She whirled around as the cloaked figure fell to the ground, cursing in French, but the very breath was sucked out of Anne's lungs. As she (yes, it was a woman) … as she fell to the ground, the hood on the cloak fell back to reveal her face. It was a face Anne recognized immediately.

It belonged to her. And yet, it didn't … it was twisted with madness and hatred. Not just for Athos, but for her as well … the other Anne's smile was promising death …

14AA41

Angel Island

San Francisco Bay

San Francisco, CA

Same Time

She bolted upright in her bed, gasping for breath and trembling, bedcovers twisted up with her limbs. It was a dream … just a horrible, horrible nightmare. That didn't prevent her from hugging the nearest pillow against her chest as tightly as she could manage, until her shaking eased enough for her to glance at the clock beside her bed. Anne groaned a little … two thirty in the morning. Four hours of sleep, and she wasn't about to get up for good at this time of the night … or morning, either one. She closed her eyes, pressing her back against the headboard, and waited for the tremors to abate.

It had been a long time since she had a nightmare that bad … even longer since one of her nightmares was about Athos. Then again, the last time she had a nightmare about Athos, it involved her being stabbed instead of Thomas (no, she hadn't actually stabbed him, but God how she wanted to) … and Athos holding the knife as it dug into her chest. That was the day before she encountered Rochefort for the first time, and oh, what a mistake allying with him had been.

Going back to sleep at this point wasn't an option. Anne knew enough about her nightmares to know that if she went back to sleep, the nightmare would resume or start over. She threw back the covers and stepped to the window, her breath leaving her lungs in a soft 'oh' at the sight of San Francisco lit up at night. It was beautiful by night … many cities were, she supposed. The darkness covered up the ugliness, until only light remained. Just a fantasy, she knew … just a façade, but that image remained in her head. As did Kat's observation that looking at the night sky reminded her of a black velvet blanket.

She was still feeling unsettled, making it impossible for her to go back to sleep even if she wanted to. There was nothing in her room to distract her, and so she slipped out into the hallway, padding down the hall in her bare feet. Nick Boyle provided her with a tour earlier that day, telling her that gas main explosion destroyed the previous house nearly fifteen years earlier. He ignored the 'if you want to call it that' comment from Rachel Corrigan (how such an unpleasant woman gave birth to and raised a sweet girl like Kat, Anne had no idea … and she would deny to her dying breath that she regarded Kat as sweet).

Anne hadn't missed the reactions from Boyle or Alex Moreau, but it was Kat who said quietly, "None of us have ever stopped missing Derek." She looked at Anne, adding, "Our friend, the original owner of the house … he died while checking to make sure everyone got out safely." That … sounded like an Athos thing to do, and Anne immediately chastised herself for thinking of her husband again. It was then that she caught sight of Moreau's expression. There was a flash of pain in her dark eyes … a pain Anne immediately recognized.

That was the only explanation for her own observation, "Some more than others, though?" Kat looked at her, looked at Alex, and then inclined her head, ever so slightly. Yeah. She thought as much. Conversation next turned to the interviews which Boyle and Moreau were conducting to replace their head of security (which made Anne wonder … what did they have here that required security? Hmm. Interesting question). After dinner, she drifted into the library, regretting it immediately, as it reminded her of Athos. That didn't stop her from returning there now, maybe because she needed fresh memories of Athos to clear her mind … stop her from seeing the battered, bloody body of her husband in her mind's eye.

Athos would have loved this place … probably the house as a hold, but definitely the library. It reminded her a great deal of the library at his family home in New Brunswick … two floors, filled with dark wood furniture. She smiled when she saw the ladder. No, she and Athos never made love on a ladder, although she did have some sweet memories of jumping off the ladder in the library into Athos' arms … and hearing stories of a drunk Tommy hanging from the chandelier (which, now that she thought about it, looked a lot like the chandelier even now hanging over her head). Also over her head was a big window, and Anne lightly raced up the curved staircase to the second floor.

The window (actually a door, which led to a balcony) overlooked the grounds, which she couldn't see much of. However, Moreau mentioned at dinner that after the death of this Derek, she'd started gardening once the new house was built. It was obvious to Anne that she'd been in love with the man … and that there were many regrets tied up with that love. Anne was familiar with that feeling. As if summoned by Anne's memory of dinner, a soft voice observed, "I thought I was the only one who couldn't sleep. Strange place?"

Anne turned to face Alex Moreau, who was staring up at her with a small smile. Anne started to answer, but instead of the noncommittal 'yes,' she found herself saying, "Bad dreams. About my husband." Moreau frowned and Anne's runaway mouth continued to run away with her as she added, "I asked him to meet me somewhere, and he didn't do it. Something Dr. Corrigan junior asked this afternoon … never mind." Moreau said nothing as she ascended the steps. Anne was irrationally afraid at first that she would touch her arm … or worse, hug her … but instead, Moreau stepped to the window, her back to Anne.

"Would you like to trade your bad dreams for the leg cramps that woke me this morning? Or rather, yesterday morning?" she asked, looking out into the night. Anne actually considered that a few minutes. It was tempting. But the nightmare was starting to fade … and leg cramps took far longer to fade. She shook her head, and Moreau laughed softly. She said, "I don't blame you. It took me hours to stop limping this morning. I couldn't get to sleep tonight. Tried to read and that didn't work … checked my email to see if I'd heard anything from my niece, and I just got angry at what I did have."

Anne didn't know what to say to that, and Moreau went on, "A dear friend of ours is a priest, and he's in Texas right now. He opened a … sanctuary for lack of a better word. Last week, a volunteer's husband … excuse me, ex-husband … decided to show up and make trouble. It just … their marriage is over, the divorce papers are signed, and she's moved on with her life. Maybe that was what set him off … she's moved on with her life, and he decided to be a jerk about it. I don't know. I just know that Philip is one of the most even-tempered people I know, and this creep set him off in a big way."

Anne wondered to herself why Moreau was telling her this and why she should care. Newsflash … there were creeps, jerks, and assholes in the world. Getting angry about it didn't help a damn thing … it just hurt you. Anne was through poisoning herself. She started down the steps, intending to return to bed and hopefully not fall asleep before the last vestiges of the nightmare disappeared from her mind, but Moreau's voice again stopped her as she said, "I lost the man I loved fifteen years ago. I never really told him how I felt about him … spent time being angry with him because of … stupid things."

Those words froze Anne in her tracks (as they were probably meant to), and Moreau went on, "I forever lost my chance with Derek. I have plenty of excuses. I don't know what happened with the man you loved, the one who didn't meet you. I know Kat already offered the possibility that he couldn't. There was a massive explosion in Montreal, right around the time you left. Did you ever consider the possibility that the blockage in traffic prevented him from coming to you? Or did you just leave, thinking it easier?"

"It doesn't matter. He's there … I'm here. And this is … I'll be moving on from here in a few days. I don't know where I'm going next," Anne lied (she planned to go see Justinian, see how big her little boy was now). She turned to face the older woman, whose arms were folded over her chest as she listened, and went on, "I thought we might have a chance together, but if he really wanted to be with me, he would have found a way." Moreau's eyebrow arched, reminding Anne suddenly, painfully of Athos, and a small smile touched her lips.

"And if you really wanted to be with him, you would have waited until it was no longer safe for you to be there. But, you're not ready to hear that, not yet. Sleep well, Anne de Brueil," Moreau answered. She turned away from the window, and headed down the stairs. Anne once more looked out into the night, thinking about the nightmare she just had. She thought about the invitation she'd made to Athos, and wondered if Moreau was right. Could she have waited longer for him to come? She heard about the explosion in Montreal while she was at the airport, and it never occurred to her that the resulting tangle in traffic might have delayed Athos. She had no idea … she just knew that he wasn't there when she left, when she asked him to be there.

It was none of Moreau's business and Anne didn't care what she thought. That didn't stop her from turning away from the dark night, to call after the other woman, "He never put me first. He always chose other people over me … whether it was his little brother Tommy or his brothers-in-arms, he always chose other people over me." Moreau stopped and for a moment, Anne thought she'd gotten the better of her. But then she turned to face Anne, her expression neutral … which made it hard to ignore what she said next.

"And when did you put him first?" Moreau asked. She began walking once more without giving Anne the chance to answer, although a rejoinder was already on her lips. When did she put Athos first? When she chose him over her employment with the cardinal, when she fell in love with him … she put Athos first then. As Moreau reached the door to the library, she paused and turned to face Anne once again, saying, "I have an older sister, Tanya. There are very few things I wouldn't do for her. And if I had to choose between Derek and Tanya … if Derek asked me to make such a choice, I would have never forgiven him. And he didn't … he made sure I could be there for her, could save her when she needed to be saved. But if he tried to prevent me from protecting her, I would have never forgiven him. Derek was the man I loved, but Tanya is my _sister_ , she's my big sister, and she was my first friend, long before I met Derek. Those bonds are not easily destroyed."

With those words, she strode from the library. Anne whispered to the empty library, "I never had brothers or sisters. Just myself." As far back as she could remember, she was alone. There was no one else. Just Anne. And Anne had to take care of herself, because no one else would. She learned that lesson the hard way. The only person who ever tried to take care of her was Athos, and even he betrayed her. She sat down on the first step to the staircase, wrapping her arms around herself as she whispered, "Just myself."

She never saw the man, watching her from behind a bookcase. And she ended up falling asleep on that staircase, leaning against the railing. She never heard the man enter the room from the sliding bookcase. She never felt that man drape a blanket around her or ease her into a reclining position or kiss her forehead tenderly. Nor did she hear him whisper, "Not just Anne. Never just Anne. My precious daughter, always and forever. I never knew about you, Anneke … if I had known, I swear I would have come for you." She was still sleeping there when the first rays of light came through the window a few hours later … the father she'd never met watching over her from his secret room inside the library all the while.

TBC

Additional Notes: Interesting idea here ... Nick, Alex, Kat, Derek and Philip all have siblings. Nick, Philip, and Kat all lost their older brothers. Alex and Derek both have older sisters. Rachel is an only child. I have no idea where I'm going with this, except that Rachel may be the only one of them who knows what it's like to be an only child. I need to think about that some more.


	5. Chapter 4: To Set Herself Free

Author's Notes: Okay, not quite as long of a wait this time. That's good. This past week didn't get off to a good start. On Sunday, I was pulling out of my driveway to head to Mass when I realized something didn't sound right. Drew the car to a halt and discovered I had a flat tire (as in, completely deflated). I ran over a nail sometime last Friday. So, on Sunday, I had my first experience changing a tire. It's a strangely empowering experience. So, the week didn't start particularly well, but it ended on a very positive note: I'm one of four employees in my department who will be receiving a raise. Still not sure about how much of a raise it'll be, but it's my first raise since I first started working there three years ago, and I'm absolutely thrilled about it. Oh, and I'm only thirty-four days out from DragonCon, and this year's show is shaping up to be awesome. And yeah, I admit it … I say that every year. I mean it every year, too. So, in this chapter, Derek Rayne tells Nick Boyle about his daughter; Kat refuses to act her age (and drags Anne down with her ... literally); while Anne drops a bombshell on her extended Musketeer family. You'll see the fallout from it (and from someone unexpected) in the next chapter.

Reviewer Responses:

A reader: Good to see you back … was starting to worry about you! You wanna know a secret? While I know where I'm going, more or less, I have no idea how I'm getting there! I feel like I've taken a detour/scenic route with which I'm not even remotely familiar.

Chapter Four

To Set Herself Free

San Francisco Legacy House

Three weeks later

Secret Room in Library

He wasn't entirely surprised when his former protégé entered his secret room, saying quietly, "You were the one who covered up Anne de Brueil with a blanket on her first night here, aren't you?" Derek Rayne turned to face the younger man. Nick looked confused, rather than angry. That was promising. He'd been on the receiving end of Nick's temper many times in the past and right now, Derek simply didn't feel like dealing with it … his nightly visits from his demented ancestress were difficult enough to handle. Instead, he inclined his head and Nick exhaled slowly. However, Nick's next question was one he could have never anticipated as the precept of San Francisco House asked, "So, why didn't you take her to bed?"

Derek didn't answer … just let the arch of his brows and the curve of his lips say everything that needed to be said. Nick actually face-palmed, muttering, "Yeah, no. Okay, let me try this again … why did you leave her there?" Better. And while Nick probably already knew the answer to that (it wasn't that hard to figure out, after all), Derek would answer the question, since it was asked so politely. He motioned for Nick to sit down, which he did, and organized his thoughts. He had time to think about the encounter he knew was coming. Which also made him realize that keeping even parts of the truth from Nick would backfire, quite badly. Besides, he was no longer the precept of San Francisco House … and as such, it wasn't his job to keep secrets.

"I didn't want to wake her … and while she might have been somewhat less comfortable on the stairs than she would have been in her own bed, she likely would have never returned to sleep. Besides. I doubt very much if I could have carried her to bed," Derek answered. At Nick's minute flinch, he realized the other man still saw him as he was before the explosion that nearly took his life, instead of the old man he was now. He was fifty-nine years old … not a young man any more, and while his injuries were healed, he would never be the same again.

It was long past time he started applying that to other things. He went on, "As to your unasked questions, why did I cover her up and make her as comfortable as I could on the stairs … I did it because she is my daughter, and I was never given the opportunity to take care of her when she was a child." Nick's eyes widened with shock. Derek sat down opposite the man he'd long regarded as a son, even before he admitted as much, sighing, "You know of my past with Angelique, the former precept of Montreal House. What neither of us knew was that there was a child who resulted from that affair … Anne. To make matters worse, Angelique … she abandoned Anne. Turned her over to Human Services only days after her birth."

"My God … how on earth did you find out? Angelique didn't tell you, did she?" Nick asked. Derek shook his head a bit numbly. No. No, Angelique hadn't told him. At least, not directly. There hadn't been much time the last time they saw each other, especially since she was trying to kill his sister. Nick went on after a moment, "Wait a minute … Angelique's journal. It was in the box from Montreal House that Cora Jennings sent us when she took over. That's how you found out about your daughter."

"Ja. I have no idea if Cora read it before she put it in the box. Most likely she did, and sent it along so you could find Anne, make sure that she was alright. Angelique tells of abandoning our child, but not why. Why would she do such a thing to a helpless child? I doubt very much she had visions of trouble my Anneke might create, because she didn't believe in such things," Derek answered. There was another possibility that terrified him even more … that even as she carried their child, Angelique was being seduced by the Dark, and that led her to abandon their newborn child. Derek added quietly, "I would have taken her."

"You would have been an awesome father. But … you don't think it's a coincidence, that Anne shows up here only weeks after Cora sent us that shipment," Nick observed and Derek shook his head. No. No, he didn't believe that at all. What was worse was, he couldn't directly intervene in what was coming for his daughter, or her soul would be forfeit. Derek wanted to curse his father. That brief moment in Peru when he opened the sepulcher condemned them all. Not just Winston and Derek, but Anne and Justinian as well. He knew his father regretted it, even before the years he spent in Hell, but regret didn't change anything. His father's actions put Derek's child and grandchild into the crosshairs of evil.

"I do not. And I cannot protect her, because that would lead to something even worse happening," Derek told the younger man. Nick didn't ask. There was a time when he would have … but that was before he wore the ring of the precept, before he found himself making the same choices Derek once made. The former precept went on, "Worse yet, I fear asking you to protect her would lead to the same outcome. Something evil came with that shipment to this House, and it seeks to claim my daughter. Further complicating things, she carries a darkness within her. She must make a choice, Nick, and neither of us can influence her."

"Damn. One of those," Nick muttered and Derek inclined his head. He couldn't tell Nick the rest of the story … not yet. But the younger precept asked, "You said that an evil came with the shipment. Are the girls in danger?" Derek smiled a bit. Trust Nick to worry that Alex, Rachel and Kat were in danger. Then again, he wouldn't be Nick if he hadn't asked such a thing. He shook his head. No, his ancestress wasn't interested in going after the three ladies of their House … at least, not yet. Nick said thoughtfully, "Then until they are in danger, I won't get involved. I just hope you tell Anne before she leaves." Derek made no answer, because really … he wasn't sure if he could do that without revealing himself to the entire House. And that was something he simply wasn't ready to do.

"There is one more thing," he told Nick instead. The other man frowned. Derek hesitated, because he knew how Nick would react, and then continued, "You remember Alex's experiences with the tenement building during Rachel's first year with us, ja?" Nick's eyes grew stormy, but he nodded. He'd already figured out where Derek was going with this. But much to Derek's surprise, he didn't fly off the handle. Encouraged, the former precept went on, "There is a particular item in Cora's shipment she needs to see. But first, we must find it."

14AA41

San Francisco Legacy House

Following Day

"KATHERINE CORRIGAN!"

It never failed to amaze her, Kat reflected, how small women could have such loud voices. Not necessarily that Anne was a small woman, but dear God, how she could bellow when she was of a mind to do so! Not for the first time, she found herself wondering if Anne was a mother. She hadn't yet mentioned a child … only her husband Olivier, who failed to meet her for an attempt at reconciliation. Kat didn't respond, merely returned her attention to her game, mentally tracking how close Anne was getting by the foot-stomping. She didn't doubt that Anne would make her pay for her little trick, but it would be more than worth it to get such a reaction out of the older woman. Three, two, one, and … there.

The door flew open, and Kat once more looked up from her book as Anne de Brueil steamed into the library. And yes, she was fairly certain that there was actual steam rolling out of her new friend's ears. It wasn't a good look for her, but she wouldn't bring that up now. Instead, she adopted her most innocent look, asking, "Is there something wrong, Anne?" It wasn't easy … not the innocent look and certainly not keeping a straight face. Especially not when she added, her voice trembling with barely concealed laughter, "Oh, you are incredibly talented … how on earth did you keep your hand steady enough to draw on your own face?"

"You … I … what did you do to me?" Anne all but wailed. It was an angry wail, rather than a distraught wail. Kat smirked. Over the last three weeks, despite her mother's constant warnings about not being able to trust Anne, Kat steadily worked on breaking down the slightly older woman's defenses. That meant playing practical jokes, guiding her back to bed after she'd fallen asleep on the library steps (again), and just in general, being the annoying little sister. Fortunately, Kat had more than twenty years of practice in that.

She'd gotten the idea for her latest prank while playing one of her computer games. One of the characters had tattoos on her face (though they were nowhere near as cool as the Medjai tattoos in _The Mummy_ movies). Anne growled, "How did you make me stay asleep while you drew on my face? Because I wouldn't put it past you to put a sedative in my drink!" Kat snickered, thinking of the strips she'd found at one of the local department stores … you had to love temporary tattoos, especially ones that only required water. Anne's eyes narrowed. She snatched up a pillow from the davenport where Kat was relaxing, and smacked her in the face with it. Oooh, she wanted to play, did she? As Anne drew back her hand to clobber Kat with the pillow again, Kat easily caught her wrist, snatched the pillow out of hand, and returned fire. Anne shrieked, her eyes bright, and for the next several moments, the two overgrown children had a pillow fight.

It wasn't something Kat planned, although she'd been making dents in Anne's armor over the last several weeks. While she had something of a crush on Nick when she was a little girl, Kat came to realize that if she wanted to tag-team someone, her partner-in-crime was usually Alex. She didn't know if it was because they both had the Sight or something else, but they made extremely good partners-in-crime … what one didn't think of, the other usually did. And it was Alex's considered opinion that Anne was trapped by her love and hatred of her ex-husband. Kat wasn't as sure that she hated Olivier (if that was really his name … Anne always hesitated before she called him 'Olivier.'). She hadn't forgiven him for not meeting her, but Kat didn't think she truly hated him. It was just a matter of getting her to see that … which meant breaking through her armor. And that … that was far easier said than done.

Not that she was giving up … especially not now, when hairline cracks were starting to appear in that armor. Getting Anne to play like a child was just one of many steps. Maybe they weren't the right steps, but Kat thought they were. She had the impression that Anne hadn't much of a childhood, something that saddened Kat. Her own childhood was cut short … beginning with the deaths of her father and brother in that car accident, and then by the triggering of her Sight, and everything she experienced from that point forward. But she wasn't alone … whether it was their battle with the demon Azazel, her encounters with Miranda (who, now that she thought about it, closely resembled Senephra), she was never alone. There was always her mom, Derek, Alex, and Nick, and sometimes Philip.

Senephra. Kat hadn't thought of the little Egyptian princess in years. Back then, she'd been torn between delight in encountering the little ghost and terror as Senephra's desperation intensified, culminating with her attack against Philip. As an adult, she grieved for a child whose life was first cut short, and then she was prevented from joining her family in the afterlife by the machinations of a jealous priest. She grieved for that child, and she was enraged on her behalf. Given how her life was ended, given _why_ it was ended … how could she help but be angry? She didn't condone what she did to Philip, but she understood it a little better. Why would Senephra see the difference between the priest who murdered her and kept from her family and the gentle Irish priest who Kat adored? Maybe that was why she was so drawn to Anne … on the face of it, she and Senephra were nothing alike. But there was something so familiar about Anne …

A pillow smacked full into her face, shocking Kat out of her reverie, and she glowered at her new friend, snarking, "Oh, you want to play rough, do you? I can do that!" With that, she knocked the pillow out of Anne's hand and tackled the other woman to the ground. Anne actually squeaked and Kat narrowly missed knees and elbows as she wrestled Anne until she could launch a tickle attack. Anne shrieked and struggled through her giggles, alternatively cursing Kat and begging her to stop.

"Hmm. You know, this would be a lot better if the room was filled with jell-o, and one of the women wasn't my little sister in all the ways that matter," Nick observed from the doorway, sounding more than a little amused. Kat sat back, allowing Anne to catch her breath. Much to her delight, despite the death glares Anne kept sending her way, the other woman was actually smiling (still). Nick went on, his eyes all but disappearing in his smile, "Now, if you two hooligans are done, there's something I want to show Anne. Can I borrow her for a few minutes?" Kat looked at the other woman, whose smile dimmed a little bit, but even so, Anne nodded. Kat pushed herself to her feet, before helping Anne up as well.

As if sensing Kat's misgiving, Anne squeezed her hand lightly, murmuring, "I'll be fine. I've survived far worse than whatever he has to show me. Besides. I have some vengeance to wreak." Kat's lips rounded in a taunting, ' _ooh_ ,' but she squeezed Anne's hand in return. Anne followed Nick from the room, and Kat allowed herself a small smile. She was making more progress than she previously thought … those cracks were widening faster than Anne realized. The trouble, she sensed, would come once Anne realized that her armor was disintegrating. But before that happened, Kat wanted Anne to understand something very important … she didn't want Anne to forgive Olivier for his sake. She'd never met the man. She wanted her friend to forgive him for her own sake … and set herself free.

14AA41

San Antonio, Texas

Gennesaret

April 2015

"So … what was the item Nick Boyle wanted to show you?" Tristan asked. By now, she was sitting on the same table they'd been cleaning. Anne huffed a little. Yeah, she should have realized that Tristan would pick up on that. The trouble was, when she started this story, she'd never thought she would provide this much detail. After all, what followed was not … well, it wasn't something she wanted her own children to hear. But … but Tristan was her niece, not her daughter. And maybe … maybe it wasn't a good idea to try to protect Tristan.

As she had learned, there was evil in the world, and mundane evil was no less dangerous than supernatural. A quiet voice murmured, "I'd like the answer to that myself." Startled, Anne turned to look at Athos, who was sitting on the steps down into the basement, with Philip Callaghan on a step above him, listening as well. The priest looked pale and troubled, and Anne knew she would only be making things worse over the next few minutes. Especially when she reached the part of the story where her ancestress attacked Kat. Athos smiled a little, adding, "I've long wondered what happened when you left Montreal. I never expected to hear the story like this. Hello, sweet girl."

This was said with a smile as Tristan squeaked and jumped from the bench to give her uncle a hug. Of course, Sabine couldn't be left out and she imperiously held up her arms to be picked up. Aramis muttered under his breath about how she became more and more like her father every day, but swept her into his arms and carted her over to Athos. Her husband's smile lit up his face and he easily accepted their daughter from his brother, kissing the top of her head. Even now, weeks later, watching Athos with their children made her heart stop. He was still awkward with Justinian, more so than he was with Sabine, but that didn't stop him from showing their little boy that he was loved. And Justinian took his daddy's awkwardness in stride.

"Have a seat, Athos. Jean has Justinian in the storage room, gathering supplies. I'm sure when things get particular unpleasant, we can find another errand for them," Josie murmured. Athos inclined his head and took a seat beside Anne. Sabine babbled up at both parents, and Athos shifted the baby into her arms. Anne glowered at him … he only thought he was being subtle. Idiot. But she made Sabine more comfortable in her lap, resting her chin atop the baby's head. Josie continued, "Before you get to this item of Nick Boyle's, there's something I need clarification on. You actually stayed in that house for three weeks? As a guest?"

Anne couldn't blame her friend and sister for her disbelief. She really wasn't known for staying put unless she was given a reason to stay. Athos' hand came to rest in the small of her back, and Anne blinked back tears as she remembered so many times when he did that during their first marriage to steady her, to reassure her. But it did what it was intended to do, and Anne admitted, "I wasn't planning on staying past the first night. Unfortunately, I wasn't counting on getting lost when I tried to leave. Or maybe fortunately." Yes, it was definitely fortunate that she got lost, now that she thought about it.

However, that was distracting her, and she went on, "I suppose, too, that I needed a place to hide and work some things out. Not just how I felt about Athos when I thought he stood me up, but who I wanted to be. I didn't want to be who I was any more, but I didn't know who else to be … and I didn't know how to stop being that woman. I once pretended to be the woman I wanted to be, when I fell in love with your brother. And we all know how that worked out."

"But Anne, I fell in love with you. I didn't care about what your name was or your status. It wasn't about that. I thought you lied about loving me," Athos protested earnestly, and Anne touched his face with her free hand. She knew that … now (and Athos' soft, ' _did you ever love me_?' had never stopped haunting her), but … Well. When she reached the Legacy House, she found that she needed to be stripped down to her most basic levels to figure out who Anne de Brueil really was, as well as who she wanted to be.

She'd never really listened to music that much … not with her heart, at least. But in that third week at the Legacy House, she'd overheard Kat singing along as she listened to one of her CD's and … it resonated with her. ' _Show me what it's like to be the last one standing, teach me wrong from right, and I'll show you what I can be, say to me, say it for me, and I'll leave this life behind me, say it if it's worth savin' me_.' Anne had gasped when she heard Kat singing those words, gasped and felt her eyes filling with tears. She heard her own feelings put into words, exactly how she felt when she left Montreal. Maybe that was the tipping point. Maybe that was when she started figuring out who she _wanted_ to be, aside from the Cardinal's creature.

But she would share that story with them another day. She was still sharing truths with Athos, after all. She said softly, "I know, love. I know. Something that Kat taught me while I was in San Francisco was that love couldn't exist without trust, and I shattered your trust in me." Her own trust was shattered as well, Athos didn't enter her life under false pretenses. Something she had to accept in order to forgive him, as well as herself. She went on, "You weren't here when I started the story, so … shortly before I arrived in San Francisco, they received a shipment from a sister organization in Boston. They believed an item in that shipment belonged to your ancestor, Raoul de Bragelonne." Athos' quick inhale of breath would have made her smile, normally.

Not this time. She went on, before he could ask anything, "It didn't. It belonged to someone infinitely more dangerous … to someone who murdered because he believed that was what his mother would have wanted of him, and it probably was. It belonged to one John Francis de Winter, the son of Milady de Winter." And, because she really should have told Athos this particular truth a long time ago (but she'd spent the last year and a half coming to terms with it herself), she added, "My many-times great-grrandfather."

TBC

Additional Author Notes: Fun fact-Colleen Rennison, who played Princess Senephra in the first season episode _Doppleganger_ , returned in the fourth season for a series of episodes, playing Miranda. At the age of eight, that little girl was already a very good little actress. She later went on to take over the role of Cassie in _Stargate: SG-1_ when Katie Stuart wasn't available.


	6. Chapter 5: Great Expectations

Author's Notes: My apologies for the delay on this … we've been in the middle of a heat wave during the last few weeks which completely sapped my creativity. Add to that some stressful weeks at work (late registration and beginning of a new semester) and an original story which seeded in my brain, and well ... three weeks later, I have something ready to be posted. So, this chapter is all about expectations: Anne answers a question she wasn't expecting; Nick Boyle has his theory blown to hell; while a slightly more recent ancestor makes Derek's acquaintance.

Review responses:

Athena1008: So glad you're enjoying it! That's fine, feel free to review when you have the opportunity!

A reader: : )

Chapter Five

Great Expectations

Basement of Gennesaret

San Antonio, TX

April 2015

Anne's announcement had the immediate effect of silencing everyone gathered. But in that moment, she only had eyes for Athos … whose normally pale face was now egg-shell white. According to the legend passed down from Raoul's son, there was a part of his grandfather which always wondered if John Francis de Winter was his own son. Anne fervently hoped that wasn't the case. Not just because that first Athos was forced to kill young de Winter (after he convinced his brothers to help him save the ungrateful little prick), but because that meant her ancestress and Athos copulated sometime after the disastrous end to that marriage. And that just didn't bear thinking about.

While she forgave John Francis de Winter for carrying on in his mother's footsteps … a man willing to protect his many-times granddaughter from that same mother had that effect … she wasn't nearly as willing to forgive her ancestress. It was hard enough to forgive her own mother for abandoning her … forgiving her distant ancestress for the people she hurt (especially Kat) was damn near impossible. And in the end, it wasn't her husband who asked the inevitable question, but his father in all but name, who was returning from the store room with his arms full of supplies and … no Justinian. Anne raised her eyebrows at him questioningly.

"I left Justinian in the storage room to pick out more supplies. So, why was something belonging to John Francis de Winter found among Raoul de Bragelonne's belongings?" Treville asked quite logically. Anne allowed a hint of a smile to cross her face, because of course it would be Treville. It was his job to look at the larger picture, to see the forest rather than just the trees. The Musketeer 'captain' went on thoughtfully, "Unless it happened while our antecedents were pulling him into the boat at their brother's urging and they didn't realize it until much, much later."

"I don't know exactly how it came to be in Raoul's possession, although your theory makes the most sense out of everything I've heard so far. What I do know is that Raoul gave it to the woman he slept with that began the de la Fere line, with the idea that if she ever needed anything, she could take that to Athos and know that Raoul sent her. Of course, Raoul didn't foresee dying in battle … nor did he foresee his father's decline and eventual death," Anne replied, thinking of her conversation with her own antecedent once Kat was safe and his mother could no longer hurt anyone.

"What, exactly, was this item … and why was it so important?" Audelais asked. Anne glanced at her sister-in-law, who wore a puzzled frown. As the weeks passed, it was becoming easier and easier to think of her as Audelais, rather than Josie … if only because Josie was the woman who was married to Rob Maddox. Audelais, on the other hand, was the older sister of Athos de la Fere. Also, as the weeks passed, more of Athos' older sister, the girl he grew up with, emerged. What wasn't so easy to tell was which she liked better, who she loved more … Audelais or Josie. She supposed in the end, it didn't really matter. She was her sister, the first friend she had after the crucible that was San Francisco.

"Ahh, that's a story in and of itself. And, if you wouldn't mind checking on Justinian, who is being _entirely_ too quiet, I'll start that part of the story in just a few minutes," Anne replied. Audelais studied her for a few minutes, before offering a mischievous smile of her own. Uh-oh. That was somewhat worrisome. But, she would trust Audelais. While her sister-in-law headed to the store room to check on Justinian, Anne turned her attention to Tristan, who was chewing her lower lip thoughtfully … which meant she was trying to figure something out. With that in mind, Anne asked quietly, "What's on your mind, Tris?" Her niece exhaled slowly, before raising her eyes to the remaining adults.

"I just … I was thinking about history repeating itself. You and Uncle Athos … the first Milady and Athos. I just …" Tristan began, and then shook her head, obviously frustrated with her inability to find the words. Anne, however, was already starting to see what was troubling the girl. What wasn't as obvious to her, on the other hand, was what she should do about it. However, Tristan took that out of her hands, asking almost plaintively, "We won't let it end like that this time … will we? I mean, they didn't have me or Mom or Sabine or Justinian."

"They didn't have any of you … and the world is much different now," Athos said quietly, those words doing more to reassure his niece than anything else that anyone else could have said. The world is much different now. Yes, it was. And the story would end far differently this time. Key changes were already made … by her, by Athos, and by others. As Audelais returned, flashing Anne a thumb's up sign, Athos asked, "So, what exactly did they find?" Anne allowed herself a small smile, before returning to the story.

14AA41

San Francisco Legacy House

May 2013

"And why, exactly, did you think this would interest me?"

Her tone was curious, rather than arch, and Nick Boyle offered his companion a half-smile as he gestured for her to join him at the table. He had the distinct pleasure of seeing her green eyes widen as she looked at the array of weapons sent in the most recent shipment. And now that he knew she was Derek's daughter, he couldn't help looking for his friend in her features … and in her enthusiasms. He found one of those enthusiasms as she breathed, "That … that's a main gauche. Where on earth did you get it?"

"It was sent by a sister organization in the most recent shipment. We … we're the depository of many such items. Several of our sister organizations were destroyed in the late nineties, and while those branches are being rebuilt, they don't have the personnel or the storage space to deal with these items. Much of this shipment was dated to the seventeenth century. Here, take a look," Boyle answered. He caught himself several times before he could refer to Houses. She wasn't ready to know about the Legacy, and he wasn't sure if she ever would be, even if it was in her blood. Right now, she didn't need to know about the falls of Montreal, Paris, Cairo or Boston Houses … or how close San Francisco House came to being destroyed. Anne de Brueil stepped closer to the table, looking first at the main gauche that first caught her attention. He added lightly, "And since you are so thoroughly opposed to taking charity in any form, I thought maybe you'd like to earn your keep?"

He was rewarded with an exasperated eye-roll, and while the gesture wasn't Derek's, the expression was. Biting back a grin, Nick went on, "And here's something else that caught my eye." For more reason than one. However, he wasn't about to tell her about the sepulchers that caused so much trouble for them when Kat and Rachel first came to them so many years ago, and on more than one occasion since that time. Derek's daughter or not, that was a story she would have to earn.

The brunette murmured, "A key … it's much too small to be a house key. Maybe to a chest or drawers?" She continued talking to herself, turning the key this way and that. Nick left her to it. He was far more interested in the main gauche. Like many young boys (and quite a few young girls), he'd loved the stories of The Three Musketeers, and to hold a weapon one of the musketeers might have used in a fight … Alex would probably call him a fanboy, and she'd be right. When it came to Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, he _was_ a fanboy, and had been ever since he found Grimaud's journal (more to the point, ever since Philip found Grimaud's journal and translated it from the original French for him). Part of it was the derring-do and the swashbuckling, of course. But the young Nick Boyle was thoroughly impressed with Athos' behavior toward his son. Whether it was because of his own troubled relationship with his father, or because Athos was a single father raising a child on his own, that resonated with the former SEAL.

Old memories reached forward and swamped over him, memories of the first time he read about the Inseparables, as they were called … memories of Philip's smile when he presented him with the translation of Grimaud's journal for Nick's birthday (before he took his final vows, before Ellen took her own life, before guilt drove Philip away from them). And so lost was he in his memories, that it took Anne several minutes to get his attention. She was glowering at him impatiently, and asked once again, "Do you have any idea who this belongs to?"

Much later, he would realize he hadn't listened to her question … or to the way she asked it. Instead, he told her, "My theory is that it belonged to Raoul de Bragelonne. According to the notes that came with the shipment, it was found in his coat pocket. I'm thinking that it was a key to a chest, maybe where he kept special letters." He was preparing to expound on his theory, telling Anne a little about his own research into the tragic young Vicomte, but she was shaking her head, her expression almost pitying.

"No, Mr. Boyle … it didn't belong to Raoul de Bragelonne. And in truth, I'm surprised that he kept this," Anne replied. Nick stared at the young woman in shock. How in the hell did she know it didn't belong to Raoul … and what qualified her to make a statement like that? He should have remembered that he was dealing with Derek Rayne's daughter. Anne wasn't a forensic anthropologist like Derek, but she had a skillset all her own. She was also more observant than he was in some cases.

That was when the second part of her statement hit him … ' _I'm surprised that he kept this_.' Nick asked, "What do you mean … why are you surprised by Raoul having this?" He didn't realize at first that he'd referred to the heir of Olivier d'Athos by his given name, rather than by his title. Anne smirked a little (an expression that was quickly coming to annoy him). Remembering how he'd found the two female hooligans, Nick waggled his fingers threateningly and asked, "Anne? Why are you surprised?"

Much to his astonishment, Anne actually squeaked and backed away, eyeing his fingers warily as she said, "I'll show you if you put those away!" Nick eyed her with a smirk of his own, and Anne repeated, "I'll show you, but _no_ tickling!" The ex-SEAL wondered if this was something she inherited from Derek (not that he was going to experiment to find out), and obediently tucked his hands behind his back. Anne watched warily, before explaining, "First, you need to understand that I married into Raoul's family. I wasn't going to tell you that, because quite frankly, it's none of your business, but I married Raoul's many times great-grandson."

The first thing that occurred to Nick was ' _holy repeating history, Batman_.' Of course, he knew from Derek that his mother's side of the family was descended from the infamous Milady de Winter (also according to Derek, the real Milady de Winter was far worse than anyone knew). So the descendent of Milady de Winter married the descendent of her husband, Athos. The second thing that occurred to him was, ' _damn, Derek knew about this_!' Because of _course_ he did. Nick became accustomed to Derek knowing pretty much everything years earlier.

But Anne wasn't finished. She went on, "I'm not proud of who I was before I married my husband, or who I became after our marriage fell apart. But one of my jobs involved work at a museum, and I actually learned things there. Don't look so surprised, part of what made me so good at my job was my ability to learn and improvise. In any event, I became aware of a particular design on certain items donated by an English family, some of which were from the seventeenth century. The family was the de Winter family."

Nick stared at her uncomprehendingly for several seconds, before he understood. Anne nodded slowly and explained, "This key did not belong to Raoul de Bragelonne. It belonged to the man whom some believe was his half-brother, John Francis de Winter. One other thing I learned from the de Winter collection was that John had his own variation on that design … and that variation can be found on this key. I can't show you, because it's too small … but as soon as my thumb brushed against it, I knew what it was."

"If we put it under a magnifier, could you show me then?" Nick asked slowly. The key belonged not to Raoul de Bragelonne, but to John de Winter … also known as Mordaunt. Well, hell! And if there was one thing he had learned painfully well, it was that every key went to a corresponding lock. Anne frowned a bit at the question, but nodded. Nick hesitated as he ran scenarios through his mind, and then made a decision. She was Derek's daughter, yes, but she was also Angelique's. If he was wrong … if he was wrong, this choice could send San Francisco down the same path as Montreal House. But if he was right … then this could tip Anne toward the light, without actually helping her. His decision made, Nick said softly, "There's something you should see … and bring the key."

14AA41

"They tell stories of you, you know. Derek Rayne, the Anointed One. There's a mixture of respect, admiration, and extreme frustration when they speak of you. And you're my great-grandson. It must annoy Mother to no end that her descendent is such a champion for the Light," the young man said. In the years since he sacrificed himself to save the world and the people loved most, Derek Rayne found himself visited more and more often by shades and spirits … although with the recent shipment from Boston House, those shades and spirits now belonged to his own family. It was one thing when it was his father, coming to make amends for his crimes against the world, against Derek and Ingrid.

It was another entirely when it was the de Winter mother and son. Mordaunt, son of Milady. According to legend, Milady was breathtakingly beautiful … while her son was quite unattractive. And yet, here and now, John de Winter wasn't truly an ugly young man … more like sad. That didn't make him any more welcome in Derek's secret rooms. John went on, "You're very much like my father, you know. Even when he had no reason in the world to try to save me … he risked his life to do just that. And I tried to kill him because it was what my dear mother wanted."

On the other hand, while Derek wanted to be alone with his thoughts, at least John wasn't like his mother. Again, the spite seemed to have drained from the young man, leaving only sadness. At a wasted life? Perhaps? John certainly seemed to believe that Olivier d'Athos was his father. He asked in spite of himself, "You bear him no ill will for killing you?" Much to his astonishment, John actually laughed, and the merriment transformed his face. Gone was the spectacularly unattractive boy, and in his place was a young man who was almost handsome.

"Ill will? I tried to kill him! Oh, I was angry with him at the time … by God, I was so angry with him. Yes, how dare he defend himself against my attacks … of course, he was supposed to simply roll over and die and leave his brothers and son bereft! Yes, I thought that way at the time. I've grown up since then. Sometimes, people have to die and … what is the common vernacular now? Oh, yes … 'get over themselves.' No … no, I bear my father no ill will. He tried to save me. He had no reason in the world to do so, but he tried to save me. I suppose I could be angry with him for having my mother killed, but you've met her," was the very surprising response. Derek bit back a smile at that.

However, because he was Derek Rayne, he pointed out, "There are some who say that your father made her into the person she became." John's smile died, leaving only that sadness and a ghost of the handsome youngster he'd become for a few minutes. Derek had his own thoughts about that, but he wanted to hear what the child of Athos and Milady had to say. He wanted to know what to expect for his grandson Justinian, for good or for ill. If John de Winter could truly forgive his father for his part in what his mother became …

"My mother made her own choices, something I never allowed myself to accept when I was a child. Did my father's choices impact some of hers? Yes. But this is something I had to learn once I died. My mother may have been a victim, but she chose to become a predator. My father may have cast my mother out when he realized that she was a convict, but he chose to become a protector in the wake of that decision. Do you see? They made their own choices, choices that were impacted by the behavior of others, yes, but they made their own choices. And my father … he took responsibility for what he did and what he didn't do. Mother never did. She still hasn't. Derek, you must understand … I am not yet strong enough to confront our mother. Anne is. You are," John said earnestly.

He took a deep breath and released it, murmuring, "Did you really think that it was mere happenstance that led Armand Richelieu to send Anne to Pinon Deux to 'prove' that Athos de la Fere murdered his parents? Of course it wasn't. Oh, Richelieu didn't realize who Anne was, but my mother had a wider reach than most realize. And she wanted to punish Richelieu, just as much as she wanted to punish my father's descendents. You must understand, Derek. My mother is truly evil. She hurts people not because she lashes out, as Anne sometimes does, but because she enjoys it. She likes hurting people. She always has."

Derek had nothing to say for several moments, before finally asking softly, "What is it that you want me to do?" John told him all of this for a reason … and now they were coming to the heart of what that reason was. John merely stared at him, a tiny smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. Derek merely lifted an eyebrow questioningly. Again, John laughed and Derek asked (because he was curious), "Did you laugh for my ancestress? Did she see you laugh and think that you were the most handsome man she'd ever seen?"

Again, that sadness returned as John answered quietly, "No. Nothing so kind." Derek wanted to ask for more details, but had the sense that the memory was painful for John. And so, he kept silent. After a moment, John went on, "What do I want you to do? Nothing that you're not already doing. Love your Anne. Have faith in her. Even when all seems darkest. Believe in her, because that is the key. Do I fault her Athos for not believing in her? Curiously, no. She entered his life under false pretenses, after all." That was Derek's feeling as well. He wanted to hate Athos de la Fere for hurting his only child, but if he was to be a good father to Anne (even now), he had to acknowledge her accountability in this mess as well. John went on, "She still loves him, you know. Even now, she loves him … even when she thinks that he chose his brother Musketeers over her, she loves him."

"But he didn't … did he," Derek stated and John offered a very small shrug. Derek nodded. He was well aware of traffic in Montreal, and unlike his daughter, he'd heard about the devastating explosion that destroyed the Musketeer Headquarters. In his secret room, he had far much time to read newspapers and the internet. He knew. He wasn't sure why his daughter didn't, but he did … and it was for that reason as well that he couldn't hate Athos de la Fere. He had only to remember the aftermath of the explosion of his House, hearing about how traumatized and shocked his House, his family, was in the wake of that explosion.

"I'm sure someone who is determined to find fault with him will see it as abandonment. But I do know that while he tried to meet her, he was unavoidably delayed … and by the time he arrived, she was gone. She isn't ready to hear that, or to forgive him. And that's what I ask of you, Derek Rayne, son of Barbara … when she is ready to forgive him, when she is ready to take responsibility for her part in all that happened between them … that is when she'll need you most," John told him.

His eyes widened and he muttered a French curse under his breath, exhaling slowly, "She's here. Mother doesn't like it when I try to thwart her. Just … be ready, Derek. The time is coming sooner than any of us think." With those words, he vanished, leaving his descendent staring at the spot he'd occupied. Be ready. He'd spent so many years of his life, being ready for whatever came for the Legacy, whatever came for him. Now, he would do the same, but this time, he would be waiting for whatever came for his daughter, for his Anne.

Oh, yes … he would be ready. For the child he'd never had a chance to be a father to, he would be ready and make sure whatever came for her had no idea he was ready. He murmured as Milady manifested herself in front of him, "If you meant what you said, Father … your granddaughter needs you now." And then, the battle of wits was on once more, only now, Derek was aware of the consequences if he lost.

TBC


	7. Chapter 6: The Shadows and the Night

Author's Notes: So, here we are, only days before DragonCon and I'm trying very hard _not_ to have a meltdown as I put some last minute details into place. No, it's nothing out of the ordinary, just things that happen with every trip I take as I think of last-minute things that need to be done. At least most of my vacation prep for work has been handled … pretty much everything is done except changing my voice mail and that will be done before I leave on Wednesday. I've started packing (given I'll be getting home at seven pm on Wednesday, you bet I've started packing!). So, in this chapter, the rug gets yanked out from under Anne; Milady makes her move; and the San Francisco Legacy House becomes Ground Zero for yet another battle between the forces of light and the forces of darkness. The chapter title comes from Derek de Lint's narration at the beginning of each episode in season one, ' _from the beginning of time, mankind has existed between the world of light and the world of darkness. Our secret society has been here forever, protecting others from the creatures that inhabit the shadows and the light, known only to the initiated by our true name: the Legacy_.' (And how scary is it that even after twenty years, I still remember that?)

Chapter Six

The Shadows and the Night

Angel Island

San Francisco, CA

Three Weeks Later

Over the next few weeks, much against her will at first, Anne began settling in with the rest of Kat's unusual family. She still didn't think very much of Rachel Corrigan … how such a shrill woman managed to raise a sensible, kind young woman like Kat, Anne would never know. And as for Corrigan accusing her of 'pretending' to go to Kat's aid … well, the less said about that, the better. Anne stared at her in astonishment before walking away, shaking her head. Anne understood about the desire to protect your child (witness how far she went to protect Justinian from anyone who might want to hurt him because of either of his parents), but she hoped she never became like Corrigan … and shut down Boyle the first time he tried to make excuses for her and tell her that ' _Rachel has been through a lot_.' Yeah? Who hadn't? As for Boyle himself, he was okay … according to Alex, he was a real hot-head in the past. Anne could see that … hot-headed and reckless, yeah, she could definitely see that.

Alex Moreau … she was an interesting person. Like Kat herself, Alex had a form of clairvoyance. Anne already knew about her feelings for the mysterious Derek Rayne. She learned that Alex regarded Boyle as a younger brother … he and this priest whom she and Kat sometimes talked about. She had a teenaged niece … it made Anne ache to hear the love in Alex's voice when she spoke of the girl. This girl was Alex's niece, but she loved her as much as Anne loved Justinian. Did she like Alex? She wasn't sure. She did know that she would far rather spend time with the psychic than she would with Kat's mother. Then again, she would rather return to the Cardinal's employ willingly rather than spend time with the shrill Dr. Corrigan. And really, she felt sorry for the woman's patients. Talk about a lousy psychiatrist!

After she pointed out the de Winter symbol to Nick Boyle, she found herself helping even more and was drawn even more into the family. But what was really stunning was just how much she enjoyed it. Over the next few weeks, she became more and more absorbed in the cataloging of the item. She told Athos that she didn't want to be the Cardinal's creature any more … and the woman she was becoming while working with Boyle, Kat and the others was not the Cardinal's creature. She wasn't the girl who had fallen headlong in love with Athos, either … but that was also okay. She liked the woman she was becoming, when she stopped and thought about it.

If only the nightmares would stop. Every night she fell asleep in her own room, she was awakened by horrific nightmares … usually about Athos, about hurting him as badly as he hurt her. But Kat's words resonated in her mind and in her heart, and she was starting to accept that she hurt him just as deeply. That made the nightmares all the more shattering, as every night, she awoke from those nightmares, gasping out her husband's name. She told him that they were bound together, and the nightmares proved her right.

After each nightmare, she went to the library. She wasn't sure why she found solace there, but when she returned to sleep (under the table, on the stairs, on top of the table), nightmares never troubled her. There were no visions of Athos stripped to the waist, blood running down his torso as hellfire burned behind him … nor were there the taunting whispers from what sounded like her own voice as she watched in horror, never able to reach her husband in time to save him from the fire that consumed him. And that was worth the neck pain she experienced in the morning.

That all came to an end about six weeks after her departure from Montreal and arrival in San Francisco. One day, she would learn not to be fooled by the way a day started … this particular day started out brilliantly, even joyfully. For the first time she'd stayed with Kat's odd little family, she slept all through the night, no nightmares. Maybe that should have been a clue of how badly things were about to go pear-shaped. She wanted to blame Rachel Corrigan, but that would have been way too easy. And truthfully, the psychiatrist had a point … if anyone was strong enough to face down the evil that was within John Francis de Winter's key, it was Kat.

Unfortunately, she was also wrong. Kat was one of the strongest people Anne ever met, but not even she was a match for the determined evil that was lengthening her hold on this house. In the days leading up to that final assault, odd things began to happen around the house. Items began to go missing … only to turn up in another part of the house where people usually didn't go. But what really upset Kat was the trashing of one of the other rooms … as it happened, the same room where her priest-friend slept in the past, after the new house was completed. For the first time since she'd met the young anthropologist, Kat was actually in tears.

The girl's mother didn't help (again) when she accused Anne of moving things. Considering she didn't know where half the rooms in the house were, Anne didn't even bother dignifying that with a response. Neither Boyle nor Alex paid her any attention, and Kat actually stormed out of the house after tearing into her mother. Mention was made of a time when Kat was missing and her mother accused the late Derek of having a hand in it. Or something. Anne was a little unclear on the details, but she actually felt a bit sorry for Corrigan, especially after seeing the woman's obvious horror when Kat threw that incident in her face. Apparently, it was something that was rarely mentioned.

Kat left the house, infuriated to the point of ignoring Boyle when he tried to intercede on her mother's behalf … and when she returned, she was even less herself than when she left.

14AA41

Kat Corrigan loved her mother, but she had no illusions about her. Too many times while she was growing up, Kat was the adult in the relationship. That changed somewhat when she turned twelve (and she still shuddered when she thought about her behavior during that time period. Dear God, she had turned into such a brat) … but from the time her father and brother died until Derek's death, Kat was often the adult when it came to her relationship with her mother. And yes, even now, losing Derek hurt desperately.

Maybe that was why she threw Connor and her father's return back in her mother's face after Mom accused Anne of setting up the confrontation with Ryder just so she could come to Kat's rescue. Not that she behaved any better at the time, but in her own defense, she was nine years old and saw her mother kissing a man who wasn't her father … at Christmas time, no less. But … Derek hadn't deserved that. Not after the way he protected and took care of her, not after all the times he'd been there for both her and her mother.

She drove around the island aimlessly before heading to the ferry to take her into the city, seeing Derek wherever she went. Patrick Corrigan was her father, her daddy, and as she grew up, she began to realize that she was very much her father's daughter, while Connor (who would forever be twelve years old) was more their mother's son. Yes, Patrick Corrigan was her father, was her daddy … but Derek Rayne had been a father figure to her as well, and she loved him almost as fiercely as she loved her daddy. In the days and weeks after Derek's death, every time she'd hurt Derek, every time she'd been ungrateful, passed through her mind.

After leaving the ferry, she continued to drive around San Francisco, seeking to ease the pain in her heart. Something about Anne reminded her of Derek, in the same way that seeing pictures of Alex's niece Sylvie reminded her of Alex herself, and that broke her heart. Not because she wished that Anne wasn't Derek's child, but because she wished that she was. It had always seemed so unfair that Derek, who was a good father to them all, never had any children of his own, aside from one who died. She wanted Anne to be Derek's child … and that made her heart ache all over again, because if Anne was Derek's daughter, she would never know the wonderful man who sired her. She gave a low, choked laugh as she realized her travels brought her to the Winston Rayne Hall of Antiquities. It figured. This was where Derek's presence always seemed strongest to her, just as she could still close her eyes and see Philip in the library.

Running her fingers lightly over the de Winter key, Kat headed into the Hall, and then toward the wing that housed the Derek Rayne Foundation. She'd spent very little time here as a child, in those four years between their first encounter with the Legacy and Derek's death. And now, she was its director. Then again, while she'd majored in anthropology in college, she had a minor in Art History. She smiled to herself … a smile which died as she came face to face with a mirror sitting just to the right of the door to her Foundation's offices. Not because she had an issue with mirrors (in the back of her mind, she heard her child-self telling Philip 'a mirror can turn everything around'), but because this mirror wasn't supposed to be where it was. She shook her head, muttering under her breath about people who needed to leave things where they were, because this didn't belong here.

She knew her staff better than that. She knew they wouldn't move things randomly, which made her mistake even worse. Kat picked up the mirror (which was far lighter than it should have been … another warning sign) … and gasped as a hand reached through the mirror to grasp the key around her neck. That was even before she saw the image of a woman appearing in the mirror … the same woman she'd seen the first time she met Anne, the same woman who Kat warned off during their ferry ride from Angel Island to San Francisco.

She smiled coldly and Kat felt as though she was frozen in place. She thought of the nightmares Anne began experiencing on her first night in the House and realized this woman was the reason for those nightmares. Dammit, she should have put the pieces together sooner, but she got caught up in what seemed like the greater battle … getting Anne to forgive her husband. The woman's lips moved and though she knew that she wasn't speaking English, that was what Kat heard now in her mind. English, rather than the French at their first meeting. Oh, that didn't bode well at all! It meant that the shade had grown stronger in the last few weeks. Did Anne's nightmares give her strength? Oh, she wished she'd phoned Philip like she intended!

' _So … this is the little girl who tried to take my child's place in her father's heart. Oh, this will give me even greater pleasure. For so long, I have watched my child struggle, struggle as everything was given to you. And so, little Katherine Corrigan, I will take and what I take will be given to my child. I will take and take and take, until there is nothing left of Rachel Corrigan's daughter. You aren't strong enough to fight me … as I told you at our first meeting, and now, your anger with your mother has further weakened you. So easy to manipulate, she is. Not like Derek or me. I will win my bet with him and you will help me do it. Stupid little girl, you truly thought you could beat Milady de Winter at her own game?_ '

Milady de Winter … wife of Athos. Well, well, well … hadn't she just stumbled into a centuries old feud! While Kat had some measure of compassion for Milady when she first read of the Musketeers, that compassion was quickly vanishing due to the pure malice and hatred coming off in waves from this woman. She thought briefly of Cora Jennings and her indirect ancestress who was innocent in the beginning but chose evil for the sake of revenge, before returning her attention to the battle for her body and soul. Giving up wasn't an option, because she saw what her captor intended to do. Somehow, this woman was Anne's many-times great-grandmother and she intended to draw Anne to her side. Anne told her a little of her life prior to San Francisco, and Kat sensed that her captor intended for Anne to pick up where she left off as Milady. To take and take and take, and destroy anyone who got in her way or refused to be what she demanded them to be. Maybe she would lose this fight … but Kat wouldn't stop fighting.

Yes, she was Rachel Corrigan's daughter … but she was also Patrick Corrigan's daughter, and she was raised in part by Derek Rayne. If Anne truly was Derek's child, as this woman just implied, then Kat owed it to Derek to fight for his daughter. And even if Anne wasn't Derek's child, then Kat would still fight for her, because Anne was her friend … just the same as she would fight for Nick, Philip and Alex, just as she still fought for her mother. She would likely lose this first battle, but one thing Kat learned in the Legacy … one battle does not constitute a war. And she would not give up one inch without a fight.

She closed her eyes and drew upon every memory of Derek she had from those four years he was in her life to give her strength: her small hand tucked into his as he led her through the Legacy House for the first time; Derek sweeping her up into his arms to confront the demon wearing her brother's face; too many memories to name, but at the center of them all was the feeling of being safe when Derek was there. _Derek makes me feel safe_ , she told her mother once. She clung to that memory, to that feeling. Sometimes, victories came in the guise of defeats. She wasn't strong enough to defeat Milady … but she could drain the shade's energy. Derek sacrificed himself to save the world … she could make this sacrifice to help to save his daughter.

When Katherine Corrigan opened her eyes again, they were black, rather than blue, and her smile was malicious, rather than kind. But Kat still fought on.

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He felt it … the moment his surrogate daughter lost her battle with his ancestress. He felt it, and did everything he could not to despair. There was no reason to despair, he reminded himself, not yet. Kat was powerful, yes … but more than that, she was tenacious. 'Give up' was not part of Kat's vocabulary. There was also Nick and Alex to consider. He wondered briefly if Nick would ever forgive him for not foreseeing Milady's attack against Kat, then realized if Nick blamed anyone, it would be himself for agreeing to Rachel's suggestion that Kat wear the key.

Derek Rayne rubbed at his face, sending up every prayer he could think of in Dutch, English, and Latin (as poor as that was). Even now, Kat was on her way back to the House, possessed by the vengeful spirit of Milady de Winter … and he had no way of warning anyone. John de Winter manifested himself in Derek's secret room, looking curiously serene. As Derek turned to face his ancestor, the young man smiled and said, 'The battle is nearly won!' The former precept gawped at his ancestor, who repeated, ' _The battle is nearly won! Even as my mother thinks she has won, she has in fact lost_!'

From his lips to God's ears, but how exactly how John come to that conclusion? John merely beamed at him, explaining, ' _Here, Katherine is on her home ground and among people she loves, among people who love her. The deck is stacked against my mother, and Katherine will be chipping away at her control, even as my mother thinks she's won. All your daughter, all our daughter, must do is choose_.' All? That was the crucial point, yes? Anne had to choose. But John wasn't finished, pointing out, ' _My mother will go too far. She will go too far, she will overreach, and when she does … Anne will make her choice_.'

Derek had the Sight, as did Kat and Alex, but he hadn't seen any such thing. On the other hand, there were many things he didn't See. That was one of the curses of the Sight … he only saw glimpses, rather than the whole picture. He thought a bit ruefully of his father's oft-repeated adage of ' _faith has need of the whole truth_.' And now that he thought about it, that was a rather foolish thing to say. The whole truth negated the need for faith. And his father hadn't had faith when he opened the sepulcher in Peru, leading to his own death, so many years earlier.

When all was said and done, Derek Rayne didn't know how to have faith, not even in his own daughter. What he could have faith in was Kat's tenacity and determination, and hope that those traits of his surrogate daughter would be enough to save both her and his biological daughter. He had to have faith, because he could take no action without imperiling the souls of both daughters. John whispered, only seconds before the door imploded inward, ' _She comes. I must go_!' Before Derek had a chance to question what he intended to do, the young man disappeared.

And Kat was calling, "Hello, my family … I have returned!" But it wasn't Kat's voice. It was much darker than the voice of his beloved child. Derek Rayne didn't know how to have faith. He didn't even know how to pray. All he'd ever done was fight, leaving most of the prayers to his sister and to Philip. But now, he couldn't fight … he could only pray. Pray that the daughter of his heart found the strength to hollow out Milady's victory … pray that the daughter of his blood found the strength to do the impossible, and forgive.

TBC

Additional Author's Notes: One thing that drove the PTL community I was part of while the show was airing absolutely hat-stand was that silliness about faith having need of the whole truth. Nooo … that kinda negates the point of _having_ faith (oh, and can you imagine what Aramis would say to that? Heh-that could be fun!). Then again, Winston Rayne was not all that bright. Open a sepulcher that contains the spirit of a fallen angel? No, definitely not the sharpest crayon in the carton. Also, I can't take credit for Anne's dismissal of Rachel's abilities as a psychiatrist … the credit for that goes to Helen Shaver, who played Rachel. In 1998, I toured the stage where PTL was filmed in Vancouver along with a friend and met Helen and Robbi Chong (Alex). They were rehearsing a scene and Helen said in this mock-whining voice, ' _I'm a lousy psychiatrist and even worse ghostbuste_ r.' She had the crew (and us) laughing hysterically. As to the next update … I'm leaving on Thursday for Atlanta, so I very much doubt if I'll have the chance to update again before I leave … but this I can tell you. Next chapter, it's Milady vs. Milady (just as soon as I figure out how to start it)!


	8. Chapter 7: The Rayne Family Legacy

Author's Notes: Okay … so that was nearly three weeks. My apologies … normally, I return from DragonCon with my mind buzzing with ideas. I had an absolutely wonderful time … don't get me wrong. There were around seventy-five thousand people there that weekend, and I got to meet Ryan Gage (who is awesome) … but my brain was too crammed full of everything I saw and experienced to have room for ideas. Also, I originally planned to have the big confrontation between Anne and Milady in this chapter, but both Anne and Justinian threw me curveballs (again. As usual. Oy, oy, oy) I was reminded that as the grandson of Derek Rayne, the odds were good that Justinian inherited his grandfather's clairvoyance. Things followed from there. As things stand now, there are two chapters remaining, followed by an epilogue. I've already got the prologue of ' _And Call it By That Name_ ' written. That will be the final story in the ' _One for All and All Forever_ ' series. So. In this chapter, Justinian Sees far more than any seven year old should ever have to; Milady attacks the current set of Musketeers; and two unlikely heroes emerge. Oh, and the oft-requested whump for Athos is in this chapter.

Review responses:

A reader: Had a superlative time, already planning next year (but first, there's Fayetteville Comic Con, which is only forty-five minutes from me). Our second year, and hoping to blow last year out of the water. We had nearly eighty-five hundred during the con's one day last year.

Chapter Seven

The Rayne Family Legacy

San Antonio, TX

Basement of Gennesaret

April 2015

He went to Papa Treville willingly, even though he knew he was being sent out of the room because Mama Anne and Daddy didn't want him to hear what they were talking about. Grown-ups did that for some reason, even though he usually ended up finding out anyhow. His great-grandfather (Mama Anne's grandpa) told him they weren't ready for him to know about Milady or even about his grandpa. Or that Justinian could see ghosts, for that matter. ' _It isn't that they think you foolish, little one_ ,' his great-grandpa said when he first appeared to Justinian, not long after Mommy died and he first came to live with Mama Anne, Daddy, and his aunts and uncles, ' _but where my father failed to protect me and I failed to protect my children, your parents are determined to protect you as much as they can_.' Justinian hadn't understood, until he had the first of the nightmares. He called them 'nightmares.' His great-grandfather called it the Sight, adding a bit sadly, ' _the legacy of the Rayne family lives on in you, little one_.' Whatever it was, Justinian didn't want to see it, but it was there.

Still, he sat in the storage room, even after various adults checked on him over the next few hours. He sat in the storage room, because it was better than crying in front of everyone like a baby. It was okay for Sabine to cry … but Justinian was a big boy, and it was his 'sponsibility to take care of her. His great-grandpa acknowledged that was true, before pointing out that his daddy and uncles cried sometimes, and so did Papa Treville. Justinian demanded to know if they ever cried because they were scared, and Great-grandpa admitted he wasn't sure … except for the times when Daddy cried after Aunt Josie had to leave. He was eleven when his mom made Aunt Josie leave, not much older than Justinian was now … and if Justinian thought he wasn't scared then, Great-grandpa said, he was wrong.

Next, Justinian wanted to know why Great-grandpa was here. He was silent for a long time, and Justinian was afraid he wouldn't answer at all. Mommy did that sometimes, too. Not because she was angry, but because she was sad. At last, his great-grandpa said softly, ' _because too many times, I chose myself and my desires over what was best for my children. I was a very bad father, Justinian … and your grandfather, my son, never had a chance to be a father to your mother. I … I didn't protect my son properly, so now I'm protecting you_.'

That made sense, mostly. Justinian asked, though, just to be sure ('cause he was learning from Aunt Josie about being met-tick-u-lus), if that meant he was protecting Justinian 'cause he didn't do such a good job of protecting his own little boy. His great-grandpa nodded with a tiny smile and said that was exactly right. Justinian next asked what he could do to make the bad dreams go away. That was when he learned that the bad dreams would never go away … that he would live with them for the rest of his life. _The Rayne family legacy_ , he said again.

That … seemed like forever. And he really didn't like the sound of this legacy. Even now, he was shivering, remembering the image of his mother on her knees, reaching out desperately to another lady, one with long brown hair and blue eyes … blue eyes that were normally kind and filled with laughter. Justinian didn't know how he knew this … the knowledge was just there. Just like he knew the best thing to do when Uncle Rami was feeling sad was to ask him about Miss Ana, or that sometimes, Uncle Porthos needed hugs to make _him_ feel better. He just _knew_.

And then there was the other lady in his bad dreams … the lady who looked like Mama Anne, but scarier. Scarier than even when Mama Anne thought someone might hurt Daddy or Sabine or Aunt Josie or Justinian. But not just scary, but she looked mean, too. And it was really strange, because Justinian saw her inside the other lady. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he had a feeling it was nothing good. And more than once, his great-grandpa urged him to tell his parents what he saw, but so far, Justinian was standing firm about not saying anything. He was a big boy, not a baby!

He probably would have kept to that vow, even though Aunt Josie went back with the other grown-ups after checking on him … except the worst bad dream he ever hit, and it was even worse than normal, because he was awake. One moment, Justinian was steadfastly counting out the supplies Papa Treville pointed out to him … and the next, he was back in that strange house as his mother reached out to the pretty lady. But this time, he saw something else. Something that Mama Anne saw, and something that made her cry: his daddy, chained to something with blood soaking his clothes. And he was on fire. Justinian cried out, his small body overwhelmed with the sensations and images. He never heard himself cry out. Never heard the pounding of feet or the door flying open. Never felt himself being scooped up into protective arms.

Justinian was lost in his nightmare, the final move in a game being played by a desperate, malicious spirit. One who already lost to his mother once, and refused to give up … one who failed to heed the warning his mother gave her so many months earlier **: leave my child alone**. That failure was to cost her dearly indeed.

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She needed to stop, to take a break before she started this final part of her story. Not just because her voice needed a rest (although it did … she wasn't used to talking this much), but because of the horror of that night. There was a part of her, too, that feared the people with her wouldn't believe what she had to say. Not because they distrusted her (not at any more at least), but because it was so unbelievable. She lived through it and she still had a hard time believing that it really happened. How could she expect these people to believe it?

Sensing something was amiss, Josie pressed a bottle of water into her hand and Anne smiled at her gratefully. She studied her sister-in-law's face, wondering how she would take finding out about the Legacy (as she now knew it was called). Would she believe Anne? Or would she take it on faith, because she trusted Anne? Then again, Josie bore witness to some strange things during the course of her journey from her parents' home, all those years ago. Next, she looked at Athos, who was staring back at her with pained eyes. Anne longed to wipe that pain away and replace with one of his smiles. Any of them would do, really.

As she took a swig of the water, Anne thought about how to continue. Should she tell them about how she was on the second floor of the library when Kat, possessed by Anne's own ancestress, returned to the House? Or should she reveal the greatest secret she had, the one she learned just before she left San Francisco to come to San Antonio? Anne looked at the faces of her family … at Josie, newly returned from checking on Justinian, and Athos; at Treville and Aramis; at Porthos and Justinian; at Constance, soon to be a mother, and her overprotective husband d'Artagnan. And then she looked at Philip, whose name she was given when she left San Antonio … first by Nick Boyle, and then by a man who was supposed to be dead. No. No, that was one secret she had to keep for a little while, along with that man's identity. That wasn't her secret to reveal. She was on the verge of continuing her story, starting from when she was in the library, when a sound erupted from the storage room where Justinian remained … where Justinian was sent to protect him from hearing about San Francisco.

It took her a moment to recognize the sound, because Justinian never screamed. He cried, he pouted, he stomped his feet on occasion, but he never, ever screamed. But he was screaming now, and it would take Anne weeks to forgive herself for reacting so slowly. It was actually Athos who recognized their son's cries and bolted for the storage room … no doubt fearing, as she did, that he hurt himself. But it was far worse than that. As Anne and Athos raced into the storage room, they were confronted with the sight of their little boy sitting on the floor, screaming and crying. That was bad enough … but the specter hovering over him made Anne's blood run cold, a specter she recognized immediately. Not again. Never again!

But it was Josie, her dear friend and sister Josie, who decided to channel her inner Ripley and growled (actually growled), "Get away from my nephew, you bitch!" The malevolent specter turned her attention to her sister-in-law … and that gave Athos the chance he needed. Or would have, if they hadn't been facing off with a spirit. Even as Athos surged forward to reach their son, the specter flicked her hand and Athos flew backward, crashing into the wall. Anne, for once, was frozen. Fortunately, there was someone else wasn't … someone who used the distraction of Athos' flight to his advantage.

Philip Callaghan darted around Aramis and Josie, chanting in Latin all the time. And the specter could only snarl at him threateningly … but could not move. Could not threaten him, and her frustration with that was quite obvious. Philip paid her no mind, however, as he scooped Justinian into his arms and backed away, transferring Justinian into Tristan's arms as soon as he reached the door. With Justinian and Tristan both safely tucked behind the priest, Anne turned her full attention to the entity which she now knew to be her ancestress, snarling in French, "I beat you once, Grandmother … what makes you think I won't beat you again?"

Athos groaned softly and started to push himself to his feet …but no. He wasn't pushing himself to his feet at all … instead, he was being lifted into the air. Anne watched in horror as he rose up several feet from the ground, his head nearly reaching the ceiling. His feet dangled in mid-air and his hands went to his throat, clawing at it as if he was being strangled. At her side, Anne heard Josie choking back a gasp of her own as she watched her brother fight for his life. Her ancestress answered coolly, also in French, "Because, child, the last time I made the mistake of using mirages to influence you. I do not make the same mistakes twice."

"No, you just make all new ones," Philip retorted. Her ancestress hissed at him, but Philip didn't back down, demanding, "Release him … or be prepared for the consequences. I will fight you with every weapon I have for the life of this man, and everyone in this room." There was a cold steel in his voice that seemed at odds with the gentle priest she'd come to know. Anne looked from her ancestress to her husband to the priest and then back to Athos, who was slowly turning purple … which definitely wasn't his color. Anne knew her husband was running out of time.

"You aren't strong enough, little priest! I see what still haunts you, even now. Shall I bring forth the blonde bitch or the raven-haired whore? Perhaps both?" her ancestress taunted. Anne risked a look at Philip, whose blue-gray eyes narrowed. Not the reaction Milady was looking for, as she next tried, "Or perhaps all the people you've failed? There are so many of those, are there not? Including my own child, father to Anne? You weren't there when he blew up the House, when he needed you most."

Now there was pain in Philip's eyes, but he stayed firm, retorting, "I was where I needed t' be. Derek made his own decisions, an' he would have done th' exact same thing if I'd been there. Shall we talk about failures, then? Very well … ye brought up mine, now I will bring up yours. Chief among them was yer son. Ye failed him badly, Milady. Or should I call ye 'Charlotte Backson' or one of yer myriad of aliases. Ye have so many of them, after all." She bared her teeth at him, but Philip still refused to back down, continuing, "And if ye don't want t' talk about John, that's fine wi' me. Let's talk about yer first husband … th' original Athos. Th' one ye tricked int' thinkin' that ye loved?"

"I _did_ love him! But he turned on me, as easily as that one," she shrieked, gesturing to Athos wildly, "turned on my granddaughter!" For a moment, Anne's old anger and resentment surged up in her soul once more. But fingers curling around her own drew her attention to her right hand side, where her friend stood … where her sister stood. Josie caught her eye and shook her head very slowly. _Don't listen to her_. Anne thought once more about the way she and Athos met, remembered the nightmare her husband had the night before everything fell apart so spectacularly, and squeezed her sister's hand in turn. _I won't_.

As if hearing the silent communication between the two de la Fere women, Philip spoke up again, saying, "Ye lied t' him, time after time after time. How could he believe a word ye said? I'm findin' it hard t' believe that someone like Derek Rayne came from yer bloodline. Whatever my differences wi' Derek were, one thin' I could never claim about him, an' wouldn't dream of it, was irresponsible. He always took responsibility for what he did … not somethin' ye could say. It was always someone else's fault. Let him go. Or for every shadow of m' past ye bring forth, I'll bring one of yers. And I'll start wi' his ancestor, the original Athos. He's here, too. Can ye feel his presence? He hasn't gotten involved, not yet, but he wants t.' Th' only thin' holdin' him back is me."

Anne exchanged a startled glance with her sister-in-law. Was the priest telling the truth? They found out the answer to that a second later. Milady snarled and a slim, blonde girl appeared at her side. She reached out to Philip beseechingly. Ooookay. Well, that qualified as calling Philip's bluff. Anne risked another look at the priest and his eyes had gone slate gray. He breathed, "So be it. Olivier d'Athos, Comte de la Fere … come forth." No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a shadowy figure appeared … and Anne's own husband collapsed to the ground. Aramis was at his side immediately, kneeling beside Athos and helping him to sit up. Although, it was more like supporting him, as Athos was barely conscious. Anne wanted to run to his side, wanted to run away … but it was time to end this.

Milady was staring at her estranged husband with a combination of love and hatred, rage and guilt, horror and hope. Odd, how those emotions were the exact same ones Anne felt for so long toward her own husband. What drove them away … the darker emotions? She could only shake her head, because right now, it really wasn't about her. It was about this other twisted, tragic love story. Because when all was said and done, she finally believed that her ancestress did love her first husband, as much as she was capable of loving anyone. She also believed that John de Winter was right when he said that his mother enjoyed hurting other people.

And the Comte de la Fere ignored her for the moment, choosing instead to focus on his descendents at the moment: at his namesake, listing against Aramis as he wheezed through his badly bruised throat, and at Josie. He smiled softly, murmuring in French, "My dearest children. Parted for so long and now back together. I am so proud of you both. More than words can say, I am so very proud of you both. My namesake and my mirror image … and the daughter I would have liked to have. You would have made as worthy a sister to Raoul as you are to your own brothers." Josie swallowed hard, her hand tightening around Anne's as she nodded in acknowledgment of her ancestor's words. Olivier d'Athos looked next to Anne, who stared back at him with more than a little trepidation. What did he have to say to her, this first Athos, who set so much of this into motion? What he had to say surprised her.

"Your name was not meant to be Anne, you know. Your mother did not name you … to do so would have meant keeping you. But there were names both your father and mother wanted for their daughter. Your mother wanted to name you 'Clarisse,' after her own mother. I'm sure that your father would have been tempted to name you 'Barbara' after his mother or 'Ingrid' after his sister, but his choice for your name was 'Liselotte,' after a character in a book he read as a boy. But 'Anne' is the name you have chosen for yourself … bring honor to it," Olivier d'Athos told her. She could only gape at him, because … he wanted to talk about her name? But before she had the chance to ask what he was talking about, why he was bringing this up now, he went on, "And now, Anne de la Fere … it is time to finish your story."

Finish … her story. She stared at this ancestor of her husband's, his face so like that of her Athos. Her Athos, who was starting to recover his senses (and Aramis would have his hands full when that happened) … her Athos, who would have died if it weren't for the intervention of his ancestor and Philip Callaghan. The rage that began building against her husband a few minutes prior once more began rising … only this time, it was directed toward her ancestress who threatened her child, who haunted Anne's own dreams with images of her husband suffering, and who now actually harmed Athos. It was time to end this. She inclined her head to him, and began once more, "I was in the library with Nick Boyle, examining a hope chest that came in the shipment from Boston. We were getting ready to fit the key into the lock when the front door all but exploded off its hinges. Even on the second floor, we could hear Kat saying, in a voice that was and wasn't hers, _Hello, my family … I have returned_!"

TBC

Additional Author's Notes: Yes, Angelique's contribution to her daughter's name was a direct nod to 'Clarick.' I've loved that spelling ever since I first came across it in _Fahrenheit 451_ , back as a sophomore in high school. 'Liselotte' is a name that drew my attention while I was reading the _Wagons West_ series (roughly the same time period). And what does Anne think? Something along the lines of ' _I was better off choosing my own name_.' Next chapter should be the main confrontation between Anne and Milady, assuming they don't have other plans they've not yet shared with me (a dangerous assumption to make with them). Oh, and for those who didn't recognize the Ripley reference … in _Aliens_ (1986), Ellen Ripley faced off with the alien queen who was menacing Newt (little girl who survived after her entire family was killed by the face-huggers and Ripley's surrogate daughter) with the iconic line, ' _get away from her, you bitch_!'


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